Longing
by JoyfulyetHesitantPen
Summary: Jasper Whitlock refuses to acknowledge that he needs anyone or anything, let alone longs for them. When a mysterious girl enters the Cullens' lives, will all that change? Or will she just drive him crazy? Twilight AU, OOC. Rated M for language, adult themes, violence, and eventual lemons. Jasper/Bella, P/C, C/Es, Em/R, Ed/A. Includes outtakes.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters.

**A/N: ** The first couple chapters of this story are in third person but for the most part it will be in first person JPOV or BPOV. Thank you to Claireybeary12 and Lyta7, the betas from ProjectTeamBeta, who checked this over for me, my awesome beta Laurie Whitlock, my pre-readers AlwaysJASPERsLOVE and Shadman, and my beloved sister Shelljayz who also happens to pre-read for me. :)

oOo

_Late July 2080_

Esme released a happy sigh and squeezed Carlisle's hand a little tighter. He reciprocated the gesture and the tingles that always accompanied the touch of his skin intensified just a little, which always gave her a thrill. They had been married for just under 160 years but that feeling hadn't lessened any and she suspected it never would. In fact, it had only grown stronger over the course of their relationship. Carlisle was her rock. He always had been, and forever would be.

Esme honestly couldn't wait to get home. Carlisle had managed to get all of his shifts covered at the hospital for four wonderful days, and the children had taken off on an extended hunting trip. The two of them had had the house to themselves. When school started in the coming weeks, that would be a rarity.

Carlisle had asked if she'd wanted to take a trip but she'd declined. It wasn't that she didn't like going on vacations with her husband, because she did. As long as they were together, it didn't really matter where they were. What she'd wanted more than anything during their escape from "parenthood" was to spend time with Carlisle in their own space doing the everyday things that most parents didn't necessarily feel comfortable doing when their children were in the house. She wasn't ashamed of making love to her husband while Emmett, Rosalie, Edward, Alice, and Jasper were home—Lord knows they weren't shy about doing whatever they wanted no matter who was in the house—but at times she felt as though she couldn't let go with Carlisle in the ways she wanted to when they were around.

She and Carlisle had spent the last four days taking candlelit bubble baths, lying on the roof holding hands and gazing at the stars, watching black and white movies on the floor in front of the television cuddled up on thick piles of blankets and mounds of pillows, walking around the house naked, making love whenever, wherever, and however they'd desired, amongst other things.

It was nearly midnight and they were currently driving home from Port Angeles after an evening of dancing, a customary Pacific Northwest torrential downpour pelting the windows of Carlisle's Mercedes. They only had about five hours before the others were due home and they had every intention of making the most of them. All the desire and anticipation that had been simmering within her for hours lit up her spine and she knew Carlisle was just as eager as she was to get back home. As if he'd read her mind, he stepped on the gas.

oOo

Skidding into the driveway, Esme and Carlisle were out of the car and through the front door with vampire speed, their lips fused together, frantic and hungry, but Carlisle soon came to his senses and slowed things down. Their whole evening-holding her hand as they walked along the pier in Port Angeles, the restaurant they hadn't needed to eat at but had gone to just to soak up the romantic atmosphere, the jazz club at which he'd cradled her close to him as they'd danced-had been about romance and showing her how much he loved and cherished her. Carlisle would show her nothing less in their lovemaking now. There would be time for whatever else she wanted later.

Nothing could stop Carlisle from loving his mate as soon as possible, nothing could distract him, the Earth could have split beneath him and he wouldn't have noticed, he was so lost in her eyes. He cupped his love's cheeks, pressed a soft, loving kiss to her lips and whispered, "I love you."

Esme gave him a breathtaking smile, pressed her forehead to his, and placed her hand over where his heart should have beat. "I love you too."

It was then that they heard a squeak in the kitchen, shattering the rapturous moment of love between them. Consequently, that was also when they registered the heartbeat. There was a human in their house.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters.

**A/N: **The first couple chapters of this story are in third person but for the most part it will be in first person JPOV or BPOV. Thank you to Imma Vampire and remylebeauishot, the betas from Project Team Beta, my awesome beta Laurie Whitlock, my pre-readers AlwaysJASPERsLOVE and Shadman, and my beloved sister Shelljayz who also happens to pre-read for me. :)

Thank you so much to everyone who favorited or put this story on their alerts! You are all awesome! :)

oOo

_Late July 2080_

Carlisle and Esme exchanged a surprised look. They'd been so caught up in each other, they hadn't noticed there was a _human_ in their house. They just couldn't figure out _how _a human had gotten into their home. They kept their doors locked, more because of Esme's priceless antiques than anything else, but had no need of spare keys because vampires didn't forget their keys. They didn't forget things at all.

Esme and Carlisle moved toward the kitchen, the origin of the noise according to their vampire hearing, at human speed, picking up their pace when the squeaking did. They'd figured out that the noise was the rubber soles of shoes sliding against the wood floor. Whoever was in their kitchen had obviously heard them come through the front door and was now trying to make an escape.

Carlisle skidded around the corner that led into their open kitchen in a move Emmett would have been proud of, Esme just a beat behind him as she had taken a moment to slip off the heels she'd been wearing. A figure dressed all in black was moving carefully but quickly through the dining room, heading in the direction of the patio door. The person's back was to them, so they couldn't make out much about him or her but they were determined to change that.

It wasn't that they were angry with whoever this person was. Really, they were more curious about the whole thing. Well, Esme was at least. Of course, this person didn't know they'd broken into the home of vampires. Maybe she should have felt angry or violated, but she didn't. In fact, she found it kind of funny, even if it really wasn't. Carlisle, ever the compassionate vampire, didn't find it funny. He wanted to know why this person had broken into his home so he could figure out if there was some way he could help them, but he couldn't do that if he didn't stop them from leaving. He rushed to the light switch in the dining room and flipped it on.

"Stop!" Carlisle said authoritatively, his tone still not unkind.

The person froze both at the light and the sound of Carlisle's voice.

Now that Carlisle and Esme were relatively certain their intruder wasn't going anywhere in the near future, they studied the person. From behind, with the hood pulled over their head, all that was clear was that he or she was slender, their clothing was ripped from God knows what and had holes from too much wear, and they were soaking wet. The person wasn't close enough to anything with a glass surface to show a reflection that would provide any more detail, so Esme made a decision, one she knew Carlisle would have agreed with.

"Turn around," she requested. Her voice was soft, but the room was so quiet there was no way the intruder couldn't have heard her.

While the person had frozen at the sound of Carlisle's voice, they'd still been relatively loose-limbed. At the sound of Esme's, their whole body tensed as if ready to run or fight.

"Turn around," Carlisle added, sounding serious even though he wasn't, "or we'll call the police."

The intruder let out a heavy breath, their shoulders slumping, and turned around slowly.

It turned out their burglar was a girl, a young girl that couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen. Esme sucked in a breath. The girl looked to be about 5'7" with dark hair that was most likely brown, but with how wet it was, it was hard to tell for sure. Her eyes were a deep, soulful chocolate brown with livid purple circles beneath them that suggested she hadn't slept in days. Her cheekbones were sharp, the skin a flawless peaches and cream that was pulled too tightly over them. Esme was willing to bet she hadn't had a decent meal in a very long time, and judging from the tattered state of her clothing, which were not only sopping wet but muddy, she hadn't had a proper shower for quite a while either. Despite all that, the girl was beautiful. Exquisitely so.

"Well," the girl said, "this is awkward."

Of all the responses they might have expected, that was not on the list Carlisle or Esme had come up with. Needless to say, it elicited a surprised chuckle from both of them.

"I'm guessing this is your house," she continued, her tone blasé.

Carlisle crossed his arms over his chest and gave her an amused look. "I'm Carlisle Cullen. This is my wife Esme," he said, gesturing toward his wife, "and you're correct; this is our house. May I ask what you're doing in it?"

"It was wet. I was cold. I figured your house would be the antithesis of both," the girl answered with a shrug, and she was indeed shivering. "I was right on one count, at least, but damn, it is freakin' _freezing _in here!"

They both studied the girl for a moment, then Carlisle's eyes met Esme's, and they came to a silent agreement. After so long together words were not needed for them to communicate with each other. That glance said all that needed to be said. They wanted to help this girl, even if it could only be for a short time.

"What's your name?" Carlisle asked. Esme remained by his side waiting for the girl to respond. She didn't, and from the way her jaw was set, she wouldn't be telling them who she was any time in the near future.

Esme made the decision to turn on the heater, leaving to do so without a word and returning to the dining room as quickly as she could without giving her true nature away. She wanted desperately to offer this girl a hot shower or a towel at the very least instead of just letting her stand there, dripping and shaking in the middle of the room, but her instinct told her that the girl was too proud to accept that kind of help from her and Carlisle just yet.

While Carlisle and Esme had been studying her, she had also been studying them. She met their gazes steadily, thoughtfully - Carlisle's first, Esme's next — holding them for a long while. Then she dropped her eyes briefly, bit the inside of her lip, let out a breath, and looked back up at them.

"Look, I'm sorry," the girl said, the sincerity both in her voice and eyes making it hard for them not to believe her. She gave them a rueful smile and a half-hearted shrug. "Believe me or don't, but I didn't mean any harm. I honestly thought this hulking monstrosity," she said and then backtracked, casting a brief glance at Esme, "this very elegant, tastefully decorated, hulking monstrosity, was someone's summer home. I mean, the place doesn't look like it's been lived in for weeks, so I thought that whoever was insane enough to summer here had already vacated the place for somewhere with a less hostile climate, and was, you know, actually warm during the summer," she continued.

"All I was going to do was get dry, crash on the floor, and take off tomorrow. I wasn't going to steal anything except for the odd canned good or two, but I would have found some way to pay you back for them and the towels I was bound to ruin. Aside from some puddles, I really haven't damaged anything but your pride," the girl finished. She didn't look ashamed of what she'd done, but she didn't look proud either.

She waited for a beat before saying, "I'll just be going now," and starting to turn back toward the patio door.

Esme took two steps forward, keeping the same distance between her and the girl as there had been before, mindful not to crowd her.

"Oh no you will not, young lady," Esme said, using the voice she reserved for Emmett when he'd destroyed some piece of furniture or another. It was the "mom voice" that made most children cower in a corner. Her eyes were blazing. "You will do no such thing."

The girl spun around to face Esme, taking just one step toward her, eyes narrowed dangerously.

"You are _not _my mother," she ground out.

Immediately, Esme's eyes softened, and she took a step back as a show of good faith. She wasn't a confrontational woman, and confrontation was certainly the last thing this girl needed at the moment. Esme longed to reach out to touch the girl's cheek, to show her some sort of comfort, but she knew the girl would not respond well to that.

"You're right. I'm not," she said gently. "I should have been more careful not to insinuate otherwise."

"That's true," the girl said coldly and then repeated, "I'll be going now."

Esme put her hands on her hips. "I apologized, and I meant it, but that doesn't mean I wasn't serious about you not leaving. Since you went to all the trouble of breaking into our home to get out of the wet and cold, it hardly makes sense for you to go right back out into it. You're staying the night with us," she said firmly.

The girl's lips tightened into a thin line, and she crossed her arms over her chest in defiance. Her voice was a stubborn growl when she said, "No, I'm not."

Carlisle just stood by watching the verbal ping-pong match going on between his wife and the teenage girl, waiting to see if Esme would need his help to manage the situation. He may have been the patriarch of the family, but she was very capable of handling situations like this, and he would only intervene if it was absolutely necessary.

"You're staying with us or we're calling the police and you'll be spending the night in juvenile detention," Esme promised, hating the words coming out of her mouth. The last thing she wanted was for this girl to be locked up when all she'd been looking for was a place to stay warm and dry.

Carlisle knew his mate meant it. They wouldn't press charges, but if calling the police kept this girl out of the weather for the night, they would do it. Since Esme had been the one to threaten it, thus taking on the role of bad cop, it was now his duty to play good cop and convince the girl to stay with them instead.

The girl scowled darkly. "Are you going to threaten me with the cops every time I don't do what you want?"

Carlisle stepped forward, the picture of calm, and gave the girl a reasonable look. "This isn't about what we want you to do. My wife and I are the adults in this situation which means, consequently, that since you are a minor—"

"Who says I'm a minor?" the girl interrupted indignantly. Carlisle gave her a pointed look. It had the desired effect because her mouth shut with an audible snap.

"Since you are a minor, we are responsible for doing what's in your best interest. Right now, with the storm, what's in your best interest is keeping a roof over your head. That's something that can be provided either by us or by the Forks Police Department. It's your choice."

To her credit, the girl didn't huff or stomp her foot, two things that were very common amongst girls her age, two things that were very common amongst his own daughters who were decades upon decades older. Her eyes, however, did flash, and her fingers flexed where they gripped her arms, still folded across her chest, until they turned white.

Carlisle gave her several seconds before he asked, "Well?"

The girl just glared. He got the impression she was hoping he would scream at her or just react in any way at all, but he didn't. He just stood there looking at her, his expression patient.

"Ignoring my request for an answer is hardly mature, don't you think?" he asked, his voice still amiable. From the eye roll he got in response, he imagined the girl found his continually even tone annoying.

The girl gave a noncommittal shrug. "Maturity isn't a character trait that's required until I turn eighteen," she said, no longer bothering to pretend she was of age.

"How about you follow me, dear," Esme cut in with a smile, beckoning the girl with a graceful twist of her wrist. She turned on her heel and headed in the direction of the kitchen, but the girl didn't follow her. After a few feet, Esme stopped and pivoted back around, planting her hands on her hips once more and cocking a brow at their guest. "It's obvious you're struggling with the decision you have to make, and I can't stand to leave you there dripping wet and freezing in the middle of my dining room for one more second. You're likely to catch pneumonia, if you haven't already. You can contemplate what you'd like to do while you're soaking in a hot bath, after which you'll change into something dry and appropriate for Forks weather."

The girl's scowl softened into a confused frown, but when Esme began moving through the kitchen and up the stairs toward the guest bathroom, she followed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters.

**A/N: **The first couple chapters of this story are in third person but for the most part it will be in first person JPOV or BPOV. Thank you to the betas from Project Team Beta, BelleDuJour and bigblueboat, my awesome beta and pre-reader Laurie Whitlock, my pre-readers AlwaysJASPERsLOVE and Shadman, and my beloved sister Shelljayz who also happens to pre-read for me. :)

Thank you to Ellie Wolf for the beautiful banner she made for Longing and Laurie for surprising me with it. I will be setting up a link in my bio so you can view it.

Thank you so much to everyone who favorited, put this story on their alerts, or took the time to review! You are all awesome! :)

oOo

Late July 2080

The girl was sitting at the kitchen table now dressed in a pair of Esme's thick, plaid flannel pajamas, her hair still wet from her bath but smelling like honeysuckle instead of mud and pine needles; she was tearing into the frozen pizza Carlisle had bought at Forks' only all-night convenience store. He would have liked to have bought her something more nutritious, but it was nearing one o'clock in the morning, and the grocery store closed at ten.

Esme and Carlisle were seated across from her, trying to hide their frowns. It wasn't the smell of the human food that had them uncomfortable but the way the girl hardly chewed before she swallowed, like she was trying to breathe the food in before it disappeared, even though it wasn't going anywhere.

"Have you decided, dear?" Esme asked, giving her a small smile. Carlisle smiled at her too, his expression encouraging.

Having finished her dinner, the girl pushed her plate aside and sighed. "I suppose I could stay here."

Esme's smile turned brilliant as she looked at her, and Carlisle knew that Esme was already feeling like she'd found a new daughter though she'd not met this girl an hour ago, and would not know her for more than twenty-four. The simultaneous love and heartbreak that swept over Carlisle as he witnessed this was so overwhelming he reached out without thought to brush his thumb tenderly across Esme's cheek. She leaned into his touch, her eyes meeting his with a softness in them that was reserved for him alone, and he bent forward to press a kiss to her forehead. She sighed happily. He wanted to pull her into him then and shake her, to tell her, "We can't keep her." He wanted to pull her into him, and never let her go, but that would have to wait. They still had an errant teenager to deal with after all, and he truly wanted to help the girl.

Thinking of the girl made him realize that his heartbreak wasn't solely for Esme. For some reason, he felt very protective of the girl, a feeling that went beyond his great caring for people in general.

When Esme and Carlisle returned their attention to the girl, they found her watching them closely, like they were a puzzle she couldn't piece together.

"You must be exhausted," Carlisle said to her. He'd noticed the dark circles under her eyes the first time he'd gotten a good look at her face, and now that she'd eaten, the doctor in him was demanding that she get some rest. So far her lungs sounded clear, but there was still the possibility she could contract pneumonia, and sleep would help limit that possibility. "Perhaps you should go to bed."

"Is this the part where you tuck me in and read me a bedtime story?" the girl asked, her tone flip.

"I reserve the reading of bedtime stories for children under age ten," Carlisle said mildly, the ghost of a grin letting the girl know he was onto her mission to rile him and that she wasn't going to succeed easily. The girl just stared at him, but he thought he saw her lips flicker up at the corners a little. Then again, that's what he wanted to see, so that could very well have been his mind playing tricks on him. That didn't generally happen to vampires, but hope was a powerful emotion that was capable of extraordinary things.

"Come on then, dear," Esme said, getting up from her seat at the kitchen table and moving to take the girl's plate so she could place it by the sink on her way to showing the girl to one of the guest bedrooms.

The girl snatched the plate away and met Esme's eyes with a glare.

"I'll do that," she said, her voice tight. She took the plate to the sink, washed it, and dried it with a paper towel. Then she started opening and shutting cabinets until she found the right one and put the plate back in its proper place.

From their respective spots, Carlisle and Esme watched this curiously. Their dishwasher was in pristine condition, having only ever been used once when first purchased to ensure it worked properly and never touched since. The girl easily could have just placed it inside or let either one of them take care of it. Why hadn't she?

When she was done, she returned to Esme's side, all traces of her earlier plate-related hostility gone. "I think I'm ready to go to bed now."

Carlisle got to his feet and cleared his throat. Both women turned toward him.

"Goodnight," he said, smiling at his guest warmly. "I hope you sleep well."

The girl nodded, and then Esme led her out of the room. Carlisle stood there listening to the sound of their footsteps as they ascended the stairs and headed toward one of the guest bedrooms, looking up at the ceiling for a long time and wondering what they'd gotten themselves into.

oOo

"Here you are, dear," Esme said, pushing the door to the third-floor guest bedroom open smoothly. They had a guest room on each floor, but she'd chosen this one because she figured it would discourage any attempts on the girl's part to try to slip out when she thought that Esme and Carlisle would be asleep. They wouldn't be, of course, but the girl didn't know that.

The room had a queen-sized bed with a naturally-finished oak frame and headboard, lilac sheets with a crisp, white comforter and several fluffy pillows. The dresser and end tables matched the bed frame and headboard. The walls were a light blue, and the carpet was a stark white. The artwork was beautiful and dreamy, done in pastels, with a splash of bold color here and there. It was a room Esme was particularly proud of and was made even more so when she noticed that the girl seemed to like it, if the way she was taking in her surroundings with a sort of innocent longing was any indication of how she reacted to things she liked, that is. The girl was very difficult to read, but in this Esme felt rather confident in her assessment.

"Do you like it?" She couldn't resist asking.

The girl looked at her for a long moment. "It's fine," she answered blandly.

Esme felt a stab of hurt and disappointment flash through her, but what could she do? She had no clue what to do or say to make this girl understand that she cared and wanted to help her, that she didn't have to be so guarded. The last time she'd had this much difficulty trying to connect with someone was when Jasper had come to live with them so many decades ago. Even now, she still felt like she was grasping at straws with him at times. She didn't want it to be that way with this girl, but then she remembered—this girl wasn't her daughter. She would only be staying for a day, no longer than two, and Esme couldn't think this way. She couldn't get attached. If she did it would feel like losing her human baby all over again, and she could never feel that way again. She wouldn't survive it. She had to find some way to distance herself from this girl. Esme wasn't sure how she would do it, but she had to.

Pulling herself from her musings, Esme refocused on the girl standing in her line of sight. She was still taking in her surroundings, studying them the same way she'd studied Esme and Carlisle when they'd first stood face-to-face.

"I'll just let you settle in, then," Esme said, sounding a bit awkward even to her own ears.

The girl glanced back at her, gave her a brief nod and made her way toward the bed. Esme stood in the doorway for a moment, not able to resist watching her for just a little longer. It had been a long time since something or someone had so thoroughly piqued her curiosity and Esme, more than anything, wanted to understand her.

The girl stood before the bed, staring down at it warily, almost as though she was afraid to touch it. This went on for several seconds before Esme decided she had invaded the girl's privacy long enough and began to make her way down the hall. She'd nearly gotten to the stairs, intent on joining Carlisle in his study, when an idea popped into her head.

Even though the girl could neither hear nor see her, Esme still moved at a human pace. She and Carlisle could take no risks with either the girl's life or the family's, though the likelihood of the Volturi discovering the fact that they were temporarily harboring a human was just as slim as the girl figuring out that they were vampires. Because of her slower pace, it took several minutes for Esme to find what she'd been looking for.

When Esme returned to the guest room, she tapped lightly on the door. The girl had closed it and turned off the lights in the time she had been gone. There was no response but Esme knew from the rhythm of her heart that the girl was still awake. After a moment, the soft light of the bedside lamp flooded underneath the door, so the older woman opened it and made her way toward the bed.

Esme held out her hand, offering the square metallic object to her guest: an iPod.

The girl looked at her questioningly. Esme just moved her hand closer to her, hoping it would spur the girl to take it.

"Um ..." the girl trailed off, still not taking it, clearly wondering what Esme was doing trying to give her the expensive mp3 player.

"It belongs to my son, Edward," Esme explained. "He listens to everything, so it'll be virtually impossible for you not to find something you like," she said, smiling in encouragement and moving her hand closer once again. "It's not a bedtime story, but it might help you sleep if you have trouble."

The girl studied Esme for a moment, a pattern Esme was picking up on, before reaching out slowly, hesitantly, and closing her hand around the iPod.

"Thanks."

oOo

Jasper lay on his back on a flat rock in the middle of the river, arms folded behind his head, and listening to the water rush by. He was looking up at the sky, admiring the stars and moon, luxuriating in the breeze that caressed his skin, and feeling carefree … peaceful … content. Out here, alone, he didn't have to contend with anyone's emotions but his own, and it was the closest to happiness he'd felt in a long time.

It wasn't that Jasper didn't feel happiness. He always had in one way or another. He was an empath living with at least one mated couple at all times. That made it impossible for him not to have felt that particular emotion; he just didn't know what it felt like to feel happiness that was his own. Feeling everyone else's was an empty, meaningless sort of happiness, but it was better than nothing, he supposed.

Jasper wasn't looking forward to returning to the hustle and bustle of living in the Cullen home with six other vampires when he felt like this, knowing this peace would evaporate the second he was under the same roof with them all. It didn't mean he didn't love his family but this was nice, and he wasn't yet ready for it to end. It seemed as though that thought, in and of itself, had somehow managed to do just that when the silence was shattered by the ring of his satellite phone.

With a weary sigh, Jasper pulled the phone to his ear and drawled, "Hello?"

"Hello, son," Carlisle greeted.

Jasper noticed that his father figure sounded a little hesitant and was instantly on high alert. "What's on your mind, Carlisle?"

"Well ..." Carlisle trailed off, trying to figure out exactly how to explain what was going on.

Jasper's brows furrowed. It wasn't like Carlisle to beat around the bush.

"There's a bit of a delicate situation at home, and I thought everyone should be apprised of it before they arrive here," he said finally.

"Don't you usually go to Edward with all the delicate situations?" Jasper asked, his curiosity temporarily getting the better of his wariness. "He is the one with the pianist's hands, after all."

Carlisle let out the breath of a laugh before he admitted sheepishly, "Edward and Alice … I didn't want to …"

"Oh, right," Jasper said in comprehension, half-amused, half-annoyed. "You called me because you knew you wouldn't be interruptin' anything."

Only he was. Jasper couldn't even begin to explain how irritating it was for everyone to assume they could bother him like this just because he didn't have a mate to "hunt" with.

Carlisle paused, apparently having only heard the annoyance in his voice, which, he had to admit, gave him some satisfaction, and Jasper didn't try to mollify him.

"What's goin' on?" he asked, checking his watch. It was just past one o'clock in the morning. "The five of us have plans to meet back up in about twenty minutes so we can hike back up the trail head. I'll brief everyone on the situation in the car."

Emmett, Rosalie, Edward, Alice, and he had driven part of the way and then run for the remainder of the trip to the destination they'd chosen to go hunting because, as fast as they could run, driving part of the way still made things quicker; especially since they had wanted to go farther out to hunt than usual. Since they were on summer vacation from school, they could go clear to Antarctica to hunt if they wanted to. The planning of the trip had been left up to Emmett, though Jasper still wasn't sure why, so they'd only ended up in Idaho's Ponderosa State Park due to the goofy idiot's unending love of Bonanza.

"We have a guest staying with us."

"Anyone we know?" Jasper inquired, his curiosity piqued again. He was still wary, but Carlisle didn't sound concerned, just hesitant. Besides, their friends stopped by to visit on occasion and that idea was quickly dismissed. Alice would have seen that and let them all know, and even if she hadn't, if that was the case, Carlisle wouldn't be dawdling.

"No," Carlisle said, confirming Jasper's suspicions.

"A nomad?" Sometimes they housed nomads that passed through, though it was an incredibly rare occurrence, but only if they agreed to observe the limitations of the treaty with the Quileutes. That possibility sent his mind back into Major mode, but again, Carlisle didn't sound alarmed, so Jasper reined himself in.

"No."

"Please tell me you don't mean ..." Jasper groaned, smacking his hand to his forehead with a thud.

"I do," Carlisle confirmed.

"You realize that I'm the one who'll have to break this to Rosalie and then be confined in a very small space with her for two hours, don't you?" Jasper asked, incredulously.

"I do, unfortunately, realize this," Carlisle said, and his voice did contain genuine remorse and sympathy.

"Now I know why you didn't call Edward," Jasper said, his tone only partially teasing.

"Jasper ..." Carlisle chided.

"I love you like a father, Carlisle," Jasper interrupted seriously. "But if anything below my belt comes home the worse for wear because of this, I'm takin' it out of your ass."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters.

**A/N: **We get our first peek into Jasper's head this chapter! Yay! Thank you to itsange and Gigi Scott, the betas from Project Team Beta, my awesome beta Laurie Whitlock, my pre-readers AlwaysJASPERsLOVE and Shadman, and my beloved sister Shelljayz who also happens to pre-read for me. :)

Thank you so much to everyone who favorited, put this story on their alerts, or took the time to review! You are all awesome! :)

**Something important to note:** This chapter not only introduces Jasper's POV but is our first glimpse of the rest of the Cullens. Because of this, I have to mention that Edward's gift is a bit different than usual. Not only can he read minds but he can also put his thoughts into other people's heads as well as do something akin to a 3-way phone call. It's not limited to three people but, essentially, he and anyone of his choosing can have conversations that are completely silent through his gift. To denote this, conversations that take place through Edward's gift are in _"italics with quotes" _while Jasper's individual thoughts are in plain italics.

oOo

_Late July 2080_

JPOV

"A human, Carlisle! A fucking _human_!" Rosalie hissed, glaring so fiercely at her "father" he'd have pissed his pants if his bladder had still worked and he'd actually cared that she was so angry. "What the hell are you thinking?"

The family was out in the woods about five miles from the house. Carlisle had decided to discuss the situation with the human somewhere more private than the house because he'd known Rosalie would have a conniption. Mid-hissy fit, the decibels of her shrieking had the ability to make even vampire eardrums explode, and he hadn't wanted to wake the girl. Esme had stayed behind to look after said girl.

I took in everyone's emotions and analyzed them as best I could, debating whether or not to interfere.

Obviously, Rosalie was furious.

_Shocking_, I thought with an internal eye roll.

It was only a matter of time before Rosalie was spouting off about how dangerous it was to have a human staying with us. Not dangerous for the human, of course—she didn't give a shit about that—but to us … the big, bad vampires, the predators, the hunters that were nearly indestructible. I rolled my eyes. It was all bullshit. One human didn't matter in the grand scheme of things, and she knew it. Really, she just wanted an excuse to be angry, whether it was a good one or not.

Emmett was curious and excited about the whole thing, but then he was generally excited about most things. He was like a big kid in that way. That was something I was a bit jealous of, that innocence he'd been able to retain even through the change. I suppose, instead, I should say his curiosity and excitement were amplified by the idea of a human staying with us. Emmett was absolutely fascinated by them and, by far, the most social of us. Keeping to ourselves was the hardest on him, so I knew that he couldn't wait to get back to the house to meet the girl.

Alice was also curious and excited. She and Emmett were a lot alike in their fascination with humans and their need for socialization, so that wasn't surprising to me. What was surprising was the absence of worry or panic. Unless she just hadn't mentioned it, which I found highly unlikely given it was _Alice_, she hadn't seen Carlisle and Esme's decision to take this girl in. That had to have caught her off guard, and because her gift was always giving her the answers to everything, Alice didn't always go with the flow well. The fact that she wasn't miffed, at the very least, was odd.

Edward, the telepathic bastard, was not curious in the same way that the others were. He didn't have to be because he was plucking what had happened with the human right out of Carlisle's head just as easily as he could pluck one of his vinyls from a shelf on the wall in the room he shared with Alice. He was surprised and … amused.

I was not curious about the human. I didn't see the point nor did I have the inclination to put forth the effort. She would just be another in a sea of faces that churned together and got lost in my subconscious as eternity marched on without reprieve. I didn't particularly want her in my goddamn house, but that had already been decided, so I didn't see the point in arguing about it.

Taking all of that in, it seemed like the best idea for me just to let things play out as they were. As long as things didn't get out of hand, I didn't see a need to interfere. Too much emotional fuckery wasn't always a good thing.

Carlisle, who was leaning casually against a tree, observed his hot-headed daughter mildly, but said nothing. He neither looked nor felt intimidated by her outburst, which only infuriated Rosalie more.

"You can't just bring a human into the house without asking anyone about it first!" Rose screeched, her voice shooting up an octave.

I could practically feel the venom leaking out of my ears.

Carlisle gave her a genial smile and an innocent shrug. When he spoke, his voice and demeanor were even, if a bit sly, but his emotions were impatient. "I asked Esme."

"How considerate," Rosalie bit out, her eyes narrowed to slits.

Emmett came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her up against him. He was concerned for her. Even though he was ecstatic about the human, he didn't like seeing his mate so upset. His touch siphoned some of her anger away, for which I was thankful. I wasn't in danger of losing control, but her rage wasn't exactly comfortable for me. It brought back the ghosts of memories I wasn't keen on revisiting.

"You weren't home, Rosalie," Carlisle said, his tone business-like and steely, yet still unfailingly kind. He met her eyes for a long moment, and when he broke his gaze from hers, he moved on to Emmett, and then to Edward, Alice, and I. It was his polite way of letting us all know his words weren't just for Rose. "Esme and I were. We made a decision to offer assistance to a girl who very much needed it. I'm sorry if this upsets you, but it's done. I wanted you aware of the situation before you arrived home so you could prepare yourselves to be around the scent of human blood for a few hours, not so that you could decide which was the best way to rip me a new asshole for showing kindness to someone less fortunate than we are."

Hearing Carlisle say the word "asshole" had Emmett, Edward, Alice, and I trying desperately not to snicker, but it was so, _so_ hard. It wasn't the most mature we had ever been, but a cursing Carlisle was rare. We couldn't just _not _laugh at that shit. It was a good minute before the four of us weren't struggling to keep our faces straight. All the while, Rosalie was still glowering at Carlisle as he gazed serenely right back at her.

The whole time we'd been trying not to laugh, Rosalie's frustration had been building until finally she spun her ire on Alice. Edward, who'd read her thoughts, and Alice, who'd seen her decision to confront her, were prepared for it. Edward instinctively went to step so that part of his body was in front of his mate's, but Alice grabbed his hand and kept him by her side. She wanted his support right now, not his protection.

"Why didn't you see it?" Rose demanded from her position within the circle of Emmett's arms. There was less bite to her voice than there had been before but there was still plenty.

"Rosie," Emmett chided, leaning forward and burying his nose in her hair. He nuzzled her neck, making her purr, and she went slack in his arms. She leaned her head back against his shoulder and closed her eyes, contentment replacing the anger she'd been feeling. It was almost as if she'd forgotten the whole situation, even though I knew she hadn't.

_Damn, Emmett's good._

"I'm not sure," Alice answered. "But I'm kind of glad I didn't."

"Why's that, sugar?" I asked in genuine interest.

"It's just kind of nice to be surprised, I guess," she said with a little smile that Edward mirrored as he squeezed her hand.

Hearing that made me grin.

"Soooo," Emmett interrupted. "How'd you meet the human, Daddy C?"

Carlisle chuckled and gave a little shake of his head at his bear of a son that always managed to bring humor to even the most serious or awkward of situations.

"Esme and I went dancing at Le Jazz Hot in Port Angeles last night. The weather was quite nice when we got there, but a storm came on as quickly as they always do here in the Pacific Northwest. On the way home, we saw her walking along the side of the road."

Carlisle was lying. Carlisle, who had never lied in all the time I had known him, was lying to everyone's face. Well, not to everyone's obviously. I knew he wouldn't have tried to keep the truth from Edward, not because he couldn't but because that's not the type of person he was, and also because Esme wouldn't have been able to manage it. I may not have been able to glean the truth of the matter from his mind in the way my brother could, but he sure as hell couldn't hide the deceit in his emotions.

_"He's lyin'," _I said to Edward silently.

Edward's eyes shot to mine in shock. I only ever let him hear my thoughts on a very rare occasion, even if what I was thinking was nothing of consequence. I liked my privacy and had constructed walls around my mind worthy of protecting Fort Knox for the express purpose of keeping Edward out of my head. I kept the nasty shit from my past pretty tightly locked away, but there were times when I couldn't hold it back, and no one should ever have to see or hear any of that. As a telepath, it would have been like he was reliving it with me and, while the nosy fucker annoyed the shit out of me sometimes for trying to poke around in my head, he didn't deserve that.

_"No, he's not," _Edward replied futilely.

_"Now __you're__ lyin'," _I shot back, crossing my arms over my chest.

_"Be patient,__ and I'll show you everything. Carlisle wants you to know anyway, but right now,__ I'm enjoying the show," _he said with a smirk. He really was enjoying watching Carlisle and Rosalie go at it. I could feel it.

_"Fine,"_ I replied. _"I just don't get why he's botherin' to lie in the first place."_

_"He and Esme are protecting the girl," _he answered, not physically shrugging but the implication was there in his "voice." When he said 'protect' I knew he didn't mean from Emmett and Alice.

I frowned. _"Why would they bother? What is so fuckin' special about this girl?"_

_"I don't have a damn clue,"_ Edward said. _"Per their request, I'm not allowed to tell Alice until after she leaves since she's not the greatest actress when it comes to stuff like this, and you know__ as well as I do that Emmett can't keep a secret for shit. If Rosalie found out it would be a bloodbath, and you know how Carlisle and Esme are. They like this girl, and she's got balls, I'll give her that."_

The amusement he was feeling strengthened, and I didn't know if it had something to do with the girl and her "balls" or Carlisle and Rosalie's confrontation.

"Seriously?" Alice asked, drawing my attention back to the spoken conversation, her eyebrows raised. "Did her car break down or something?"

"No," Carlisle answered. "At any rate, she was soaked, freezing, exhausted and starving," he continued. "It was late, and she was in the middle of nowhere. We could not, in good conscience, just leave her there."

"And you couldn't have just dumped her at the church in town?" Rose asked, still sounding relatively tame even though her anger was, yet again, heating to a boil.

Carlisle rolled his eyes, actually freaking rolled his eyes. "This is Forks, Rosalie, not Seattle. The church in this town doesn't stay open at all hours."

"And there was something wrong with the crappy motel on the edge of town?" she persisted, unwilling to let it go.

"She's a child, Rosalie!" Carlisle snapped, finally losing his patience. "No more than seventeen, and no one was around to take responsibility for her. Your mother and I are taking that job on temporarily. She won't figure out that we're different, and even if she does register that we're a little … _off_ … it would take more than a few hours for her to figure out exactly _how_ we're different. This conversation is over," he said, his tone final. Then he sighed, his disappointment in her palpable to everyone, not just me. "If you have such a problem with this, your presence at the house for the duration of her stay is not required."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and took off toward the house, the rest of us not far behind.

"The hell it's not," Rosalie spat. She was both incensed at Carlisle's blatant dismissal and chagrined by his disappointment in her.

Emmett rolled his eyes behind his mate's back. He was getting more excited by the minute, and I was honestly surprised he wasn't vibrating. Alice would have been if she hadn't been so saddened by the news that this girl was apparently alone. It no doubt reminded her of her own circumstances when she'd first woken from her change.

Now that the show was over, Edward flooded my head with images and sound. I smirked. The next few hours were going to be interesting.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters.

**A/N: **Thank you to my awesome beta Laurie Whitlock, my pre-readers AlwaysJASPERsLOVE and Shadman, and my beloved sister Shelljayz who also happens to pre-read for me. :) Thank you to Belle Du Jour and Remylebeauishot, the betas and Project Team Beta, who helped me with this.

There is a link in my profile that you can go to to view the album I have set up on photobucket for Longing.

Thank you so much to everyone who favorited, put this story on their alerts, or took the time to review! You are all awesome! :)

**Just a reminder:** Edward's gift is a bit different than usual. Not only can he read minds but he can also put his thoughts into other people's heads as well as do something akin to a 3-way phone call. It's not limited to three people but, essentially, he and anyone of his choosing can have conversations that are completely silent through his gift. To denote this, conversations that take place through Edward's gift are in _"italics with quotes" _while Jasper's individual thoughts are in plain italics.

oOo

_Late July 2080_

JPOV

It had been decided on the run back to the house that, until the girl left, everyone would act 100% human. That meant no vampire fast movement, no suspicious feats of vampire strength, no indication of superhuman hearing, vision, or smell and no lightning fast conversation. We had never encountered anyone, human or vampire, that Alice couldn't see, and until Edward and I could use our powers to determine this girl's state of mind, it was better to be safe than sorry. It wasn't that we believed this girl posed a threat to us—attitude and criminal tendencies aside—she _was _just human.

By the time we reached the house, it was 6:00 am. I had felt Esme's elation at us "kids'" homecoming several hundred feet before we actually got there, so it was no surprise when the five of us were successively engulfed in tight hugs the second we crossed the threshold. Even though it had been a little more than a century since I'd parted ways with Maria, I still wasn't all that crazy about being touched—the only touches I was really comfortable with were ones that I myself initiated—but I knew how much simple things like hugs meant to Esme, so I did my best not to stiffen. Of course, I had other reasons to stiffen. The human smelled good … not singer-good but still really, _really _good, and the amplified burning in my throat told me I wasn't the only one who thought so. Surprisingly enough, I didn't feel the urge to rush upstairs to drain her dry. Granted, I hadn't lost control of my bloodlust in fifty years, but I hadn't come across a human that smelled this good in at least that long.

As soon as Esme had hugged all of us, she shoved a piece of paper into Emmett's hand.

Emmett perused it briefly and cocked an eyebrow at her. "And this would be?"

"It's a grocery list, Emmett," Esme said patiently.

"Are you planning to feed all of Forks?" he asked, scanning the list a second time.

"I have no idea what she likes," Esme told him with a shrug. On the outside, she appeared to be the ever-confident hostess, but she was really nervous about this. I knew Esme was fond of this girl; Edward had shown me how Esmehad acted during their meeting. Carlisle had made it clear that the girl wouldn't be staying for long, so surely he'd made that clear to Esme as well, but from the way she was acting, one would never know that.

_Shit!_ I cursed internally. Esme was going to be fuckin' heartbroken when this girl left, but I kept my concern to myself and shot her a dose of reassurance instead. She smiled at me gratefully.

"So you're going to make every breakfast food ever invented by mankind?" Emmett teased, grinning.

Esme swatted him on the shoulder. "Just go to the grocery store, Emmett!" She turned to Edward and me. "You two are going with him."

Edward and I followed Emmett back out the front door without comment, knowing that to argue would be futile.

oOo

Esme knocked on the guest bedroom door. The en suite shower had shut off only a minute ago, and she had waited to do so until she heard the door that connected the bathroom to the bedroom swing open.

There was a long pause before the girl said, "Come in."

She was wrapped in a thick, fluffy blue towel that matched the color of the walls and was regarding Esme expectantly.

"I thought you might want these," Esme said, holding out a pile of neatly folded, brand new clothes that still had the tags on them, courtesy of Alice's latest shopping spree. There was also a brand new toothbrush and some toothpaste sitting on top of them.

The girl frowned. "I'd rather just have my own clothes, please."

_So she does have manners, _Esme thought.

Esme gave her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, honey, but I couldn't salvage them. They were practically ripped to shreds. Even your shoes had holes in them."

The girl's frown deepened, as if she'd never noticed her clothing had been in such awful condition. She accepted the pile of clothes hesitantly, just as she had the iPod.

Esme turned to leave so the girl could change.

"And what exactly was wrong with my underwear?" the girl asked irritably.

When Esme turned to face her, the strap of the brand new lacy blue bra was hanging off her index finger, the equally lacy boyshorts were hooked on her pinkie, and she was holding them away from her in distaste.

"Even that was ripped, dear," Esme told her gently, hoping not to cause her any humiliation.

Esme was much curvier than her guest, so nothing of hers would have fit the girl right. Unfortunately, that meant she'd had to steal something of Rosalie's, even though that wasn't going to fit right either. Of course, because it was Rosalie's, the matching bra and panty set was on the skimpy side.

"That's not embarrassing at all," the girl groused. Her words implied that she was embarrassed, but her tone was contrary, and she was so hard to read. On the other hand, Esme hadn't expected the girl to blush, but it was there, though it was only a very faint pink staining of her cheeks. She really did smell very good.

"Is this supposed to be some kind of torture?" the girl asked suspiciously, waving her finger and causing both undergarments to flap around.

Esme stifled a chuckle. "My daughters don't own anything plain. They don't really believe in wearing anything—"

"Tasteful?" the girl supplied.

"I was going to say that they don't believe in wearing things that don't make them feel sexy," Esme finished.

The girl raised her eyebrows. "I don't see how this," she waved the bra and panties around again, "can actually count as wearing something, but whatever."

Esme chose not to comment on that and was about to open her mouth to say something else when the girl beat her to it.

"You know," she said. "When you mentioned you had kids, I was expecting tots about yay high," she held her hand level to her hip, "not chicks with double Ds."

Esme smiled widely. "They're all around your age actually, and that," she said, gesturing to the bra and panties, "is the closest thing I had that might fit you."

"You been checkin' out my rack, Mrs. Cullen?" the girl asked, a brow raised in question and a playful gleam in her eyes.

Esme's mouth fell open in shock. She sputtered for a few moments before collecting herself and giving the girl a joking smile. "Well, it is quite a nice rack."

"She jokes," the girl said appreciatively. She glanced down at the lacy underwear again and let out a sigh. "I guess I'll just have to make do."

The girl didn't ask how a man and woman as "young" as she and Carlisle had ended up with high school-aged children, and Esme was a little disappointed. Maybe if the girl asked about it, and Esme could explain that they were all adopted … Esme shook her head sharply. She really needed to stop entertaining those kinds of thoughts. She'd been trying to, and she thought she'd finally gotten a handle on them. Apparently, she was mistaken.

"Breakfast is waiting for you downstairs," Esme said with a smile. "Come down when you're finished dressing, and Carlisle and I will introduce you to our children."

"If I told you I was just going to skip breakfast and take off, are you going to threaten to call the cops?" the girl asked, the corners of her lips turning up just the slightest bit.

Esme just barely managed to restrain herself from doing a victory dance. That was the first time the girl had smiled. Okay, so maybe it wasn't exactly a smile, but that, in conjunction with her earlier joking, was a start.

"Maybe," Esme said, giving the girl a sly look.

"And if I said I'm not hungry?" The girl's stomach chose that moment to groan loudly in obvious contradiction.

Esme laughed outright. "Your stomach clearly disagrees."

The girl grumbled, but there was no venom in it.

"Carlisle and I didn't tell the kids how we really met," Esme said quietly.

All the bedroom walls and floors in the house were double-soundproofed. After decades of overhearing private moments between couples, certain members of the family had wanted to give it a try. It hadn't worked to serve that particular purpose, but it had helped in other ways, which included muffling quiet conversation.

The girl's brows furrowed in confusion. "Why?"

"We thought you might not want to have to deal with the stigma of it," Esme explained, still keeping her words vague in case their conversation wasn't as secure as she hoped.

The girl considered this for a moment. "What did you tell them?"

"That we found you alone and stranded on the side of the highway in the middle of the storm," Esme said.

The girl nodded.

"Will you tell me your name?" Esme asked. She didn't want to undo any of the progress they'd made by pushing her, not that there had been much, but she thought the girl might be tired of being called "dear" or "honey;" especially since she'd become so upset when Esme had gotten maternal with her the night before.

The girl thought this over for a long time, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth. She seemed to be at war with herself as she tried to decide whether or not to reveal this information, and it was the first time Esme had seen the girl's confidence waver.

"I'm fine with 'dear,'" she said.

oOo

JPOV

It was now 10:00 am, and Esme had enlisted all of us in helping cook the human's breakfast. We'd all been at it for three hours, starting small and continuing to add to the menu until we heard the guest shower turn off. The sheer amount of food we'd made really could have fed the whole fuckin' town. There were pancakes, French toast, white, wheat, and rye bread for plain old toast, blueberry muffins, omelets, scrambled eggs, fried eggs, hash browns, breakfast potatoes, biscuits and gravy, oatmeal, a variety of fruit, cereal, bacon, sausage links, sausage patties, turkey patties, tofu links, ham steaks, and four different kinds of juice: apple, orange, cranberry, and tomato. Esme had also had us get coffee, tea, hot chocolate, and cider; plus milk, half & half and a bunch of different flavored creamer to go in the coffee. We were never going to get the god-awful smell of human food out of the house.

Esme had just gone to give the human some clothes since the ones she'd been wearing hadn't survived. Even if they hadn't been ripped all to hell, they would have literally made Alice faint, which was something I would have liked to see. I could picture it clearly and theatrically in my mind and projected the thought at Edward. His snicker and spike of amusement told me he would have liked to see it too.

_"I can't hear her," _Edward said, moving on from that mental image, clearly listening to the exchange between Esme and the human.

The double-soundproofing really only worked to muffle quiet conversation, doing nothing to deter Edward's telepathy. He could still see and hear everyone's thoughts just as clearly with the soundproofing as he had before we'd gotten it.

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. Someone Edward couldn't read was another first.

_"Are you sure, son?" _Carlisle asked, his tone both serious and bewildered, as he arranged all the different kinds of bread on a platter.

_"Yes," _Edward responded positively, plating the French toast he'd been making

_"How is that possible?" _I asked.

_"How the fuck should I know?" _Edward snapped irritably, and I couldn't help but be amused by his rare curse.

I could feel how much his gift "malfunctioning" scared him, though he really would have preferred that I didn't. He was also confused and miffed; hell, so was I. Carlisle was more curious, his scientist's inclination to solve mysteries kicking into high gear.

_"She's not blocking me," _Edward continued, pretending he hadn't just lost his shit a little. His tone was certain, and I knew it was difficult for him to contain his earlier irritation, but he was doing it in an effort to try to figure this out.

_"How do you know?" _Carlisle asked my next question before I had a chance to.

_"She doesn't know about my gift for one, and it feels different from when Jasper shuts me out," _Edward responded.

_"What does it feel like when I block you?" _I'd never thought to ask before.

_"With you it's like white noise. This girl is like a black hole,"_ Edward told us. _"It's almost like, in my head, she doesn't exist. Can you feel her?" _he asked, shooting a look at me out of the corner of his eye.

_"I'm not sure,"_ I admitted, flipping a pancake. _"But that doesn't necessarily mean anything. It'll be easier when we're in the same room."_

_"Have you ever not been able to feel someone before?" _Carlisle asked, avid curiosity leaking into his emotions.

_"No,"_ I said. _"When I was first turned I had a hard time figurin' out which emotions were comin' from whom, but I've never met anyone I couldn't feel before."_ Then I paused, remembering. _"Actually, that's not entirely true. I met a gifted vampire I couldn't feel once."_

_"What was their gift?" _Edward asked with interest.

_"He was a physical shield," _I explained, trying to shut out the memories associated with that particular vampire. That had been during the Southern Wars, and he and his gift had been a serious pain in my ass.

Edward frowned. _"But she's human. Humans aren't gifted."_

_"It isn't out of the realm of possibility for a human to have some level of supernatural ability, __even if it may not be on as strong a level as a vampire's," _Carlisle told us.

I already knew that. There had been times when Maria had chosen a human for her army specifically because she suspected they might turn out to be gifted when changed.

_"If she is some sort of shield, __it would explain why Edward can't hear her and Alice can't see her," _I said.

Carlisle nodded thoughtfully and said, _"At any rate, I'd like to keep this between us for now. I'd really rather not give Rosalie another reason to hate this girl."_

Edward and I both gave him a slight nod in acknowledgment.

Esme descended the stairs a few minutes later, entered the kitchen and cleared her throat. When she had everyone's attention, she fixed us all with her patented Mom-no-nonsense-don't-you-dare-argue-with-me look.

_"We're all going to sit down and have a nice family breakfast when our guest comes downstairs," _she informed us, using Edward's gift to communicate this. Her tone brooked no argument.

_"Please tell me you don't mean you expect us to eat," _Edward said. He meant it to sound willful, but it came out sounding more whiny than anything.

_"Of course__ I do," _Esme responded matter-of-factly.

Everyone, with the exceptions of Carlisle and Emmett, groaned. Emmett was down for anything if it meant getting to play with a human for a day.

_"You have got to be kidding me," _Rosalie snarled, glaring.

_"We all agreed to act as human as possible around this girl. That includes eating. I'm not asking you to clean your plates,"_ Esme said sympathetically._"And Carlisle and I will be doing it right along with you, so it isn't as though you'll be suffering alone. It's only one meal."_

"Alice, Rose, please set the table," Esme said out loud this time. "Edward, Emmett, Jasper, please start arranging the dishes on the counter. I'll make the coffee. Carlisle, dear, will you pour the juice into the carafes and set it out?"

"Of course, sweetheart," Carlisle agreed affably.

"Is there any particular way you want us to set this up, Mom?" Edward asked, always polite and respectful.

"Kiss ass," Emmett snarked under his breath, causing Rose and I to snicker. Alice rolled her eyes, and Edward grabbed a dish towel, proceeding to snap Emmett on the ass with it. It made a loud thwapping noise, and even though it didn't hurt him, Emmett shot up into the air with a yelp, grabbing at his ass like Edward had lit it on fire instead of just swatting it with some damp fabric.

There were only two of us who didn't crack up at this: Esme, who was still elbow deep in planning mode, and Rosalie, who still hadn't shit the stick out of her ass for not getting her way in regard to the human.

"I was thinking we could have a buffet," Esme answered, ignoring our childish idiocy.

"Has she told you her name?" Alice asked as she rolled forks, knives, and spoons up in the linen napkins we never used.

That was one of the first questions out of Emmett's and Alice's mouths when we got home.

"No," Esme said sadly. "She still just doesn't trust us enough to share that yet."

"It's just her name," Rose said with exasperation. "I don't see how telling us that has anything to do with trust."

"Trust means different things to different people," Carlisle said patiently. "Please don't make her suffer because her definition is different from yours, Rosalie."

No one, not even Rosalie, had anything to say to that, because there was no contesting the truth of it, so we set up the ridiculous meal in silence while we waited for the girl to join us. We were just finishing up when we heard the sound of her bare feet padding down the stairs.

_"Here comes the human," _Rosalie said through Edward's gift. Her inner voice sounded rather gleeful, and it was clear that, no matter what Carlisle had requested of her, Rose wasn't going to make anything about this day easy on anyone.

_Oh joy,_ I thought to myself sarcastically. _Let the games begin__._

oOo

**A/N:** Hi Everyone! I know a lot of you are really impatient to see what everyone's reactions are to Bella and vice versa, and that will be happening in the next chapter. Just know that this chapter is really important in setting up events that take place in the next couple chapters, and I don't think you will be disappointed. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters. Also, I did not come up with Jasper as the God of War. That idea belongs to IdreamofEddy.

**A/N: **Thank you to my awesome beta Laurie Whitlock, Belle Du Jour and Arones, the betas from Project Team Beta, my pre-readers AlwaysJASPERsLOVE and Shadman, and my beloved sister Shelljayz who also happens to pre-read for me. :)

Thank you to Ellie Wolf for the beautiful banner she made for Longing and to Laurie for surprising me with it. I will be setting up a link in my bio so you can view it.

Thank you so much to everyone who have favorited, put this story on their alerts, or taken the time to review! You are all awesome! :)

I should probably also mention that my posting schedule will be on Sundays unless something comes up.

Finally, the chapter you all have been waiting for - Bella meets the rest of the Cullens!

**Just a reminder:** Edward's gift is a bit different than usual. Not only can he read minds but he can also put his thoughts into other people's heads as well as do something akin to a 3-way phone call. It's not limited to three people but, essentially, he and anyone of his choosing can have conversations that are completely silent through his gift. To denote this, conversations that take place through Edward's gift are in _"italics with quotes" _while Jasper's individual thoughts are in plain italics.

oOo

_Late July 2080_

JPOV

"Sweet Jesus!" the girl exclaimed. "Are you planning on feeding an army?"

We all turned to look at her from our various locations in the kitchen, and my eyes widened the slightest bit. As vampires, we had perfect memories, vision and hearing. I had both seen this girl and heard her voice through Edward's gift, but as perfect as all those aforementioned things were, none of them had done her any justice.

_My God, she's beautiful, _I thought.

If I hadn't been able to hear her heartbeat and feel her warmth from all the way across the kitchen, I would have thought she was a vampire; that's how beautiful she was.

_What. The. Fuck?_

I didn't give a shit about humans. I never gave them a second glance, and I most certainly didn't think they were beautiful. It was her scent. She smelled too damn good, and it was messing with my mind. I couldn't be held responsible for the shit that ran through my head when I was dealing with the bloodlust of five other vampires on top of my own. It didn't mean anything. Thank God I had shut Edward out as soon as our conversation with Carlisle ended. I would never have heard the end of this if I hadn't.

Carlisle grinned at her and came up behind Emmett, who was standing next to the buffet counter, clapping him on the back. "Emmett here is an army unto himself."

Emmett grinned back at Carlisle and then returned his attention to the girl. He pulled out all the stops, I noticed. That grin was his most charming and boyish, his dimples on full display. He was the only one of us who could manage to smile at someone with a heartbeat and not manage to make them shit themselves.

"Hi," he said brightly, his excitement palpable. "I'm Emmett."

The girl studied him for awhile, as she'd done with Carlisle and Esme the night before, and then gave him a look of mild annoyance. "Are you always this chipper in the morning?"

"It's nearly afternoon, Storm," Emmett informed her, his grin dimming somewhat at the realization that she didn't seem to share the same enthusiasm for meeting him as he did for her.

The girl cocked an eyebrow at him. "Storm?"

"You won't tell us your name," Emmett said, his tone infinitely good-natured. "And I'm not about to call you 'honey' or 'dear,' 'cause Rosie here—" he continued, slinging an arm around Rosalie's shoulders—"is my one and only honey."

Despite Rosalie's sour mood that made her smile.

"Since Mom and Pops found you in a storm, I thought it was appropriate," he explained. "Plus, she's one of the most badass X-Men chicks ever. Of course, she's got nothing on Rogue, but she can't help that."

"I suppose since it implies that I'm badass, I'll allow it," the girl said, ignoring the latter part and sounding amused. She gave Emmett a little smile, and that smile made my chest feel strange.

"Awesome!" Emmett cheered, throwing his hand up in the air in an exuberant fist pump. The girl … Storm now, I supposed, though that name on her didn't feel right to me … just smiled. Edward, Alice, Rosalie and I all rolled our eyes.

Esme and Carlisle's happiness at Storm's acceptance of Emmett invaded the room like a flood. It was a nice distraction from the weird thoughts I couldn't seem to shake.

"Storm," Carlisle cut in. "This is Rosalie." He gestured to Rose, who scowled. "Edward," who nodded at her. "Alice," who bounced on her tiptoes and waved at Storm excitedly. "And Jasper."

I gave her a nod that was just barely a twitch of my head, and she nodded back at all of us in turn. Once she'd acknowledged us, she turned her attention to the food but made no move to dish any of it up for herself. The look on her face was longing, hungry, and she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth as her stomach growled, yet she still just stood there staring at it.

I wanted to suck that lip out from between her teeth and bite it.

_Goddamnit, Jasper! Get your head out of your ass. It's the bloodlust. That's all it is. It doesn't mean anything, _I reminded myself because it didn't.

Esme came up behind the girl … Storm … and pressed her hand gently between her shoulder blades. "Help yourself, sweetheart."

The girl … Storm … flinched as though she'd been burned. Apparently, she liked being touched about as much as I did, and I found myself wondering why. No, no, I was not curious why she didn't like being touched. It didn't matter why because I did not care.

Storm still made no move to grab a plate.

Carlisle then took the initiative and picked up a plate himself, piling some food on it and turning on the tea kettle. Esme went next. Emmett, catching onto the idea, grabbed a plate and piled it high since someone his size would no doubt be expected to. He didn't know this girl from Adam, but I could tell from the affection radiating off of him and the way he was trying so hard to convincingly act human that he genuinely liked her. I began to wonder if he would be just as heartbroken as Esme and Carlisle were going to be when the girl left.

Alice was next, and after her, Edward went. Rosalie begrudgingly fixed herself a plate, though her choices were much more sparing than everyone else's before her. I was last to pass through the buffet, and even though I was now a vampire, the Southern boy in me couldn't pass up the biscuits and gravy. I added two fried eggs to my plate for good measure, filled a mug with coffee and took a seat at the dining room table next to Alice. The girl finally grabbed a plate as soon as all of us had finished filling ours. She chose French toast, an omelet, oatmeal, hash browns, sausage, bacon, fruit, hot chocolate and orange juice.

When Storm entered the dining room, she went to the chair at the foot of the table and pushed it over toward the corner of the room with her hip as she prepared to sit. I expected her to right it once she was seated, but she didn't. It was where I would have sat if I'd been in an unfamiliar place with a bunch of people I didn't know. Her back was facing two adjoining walls and wasn't left open to attack, she was closest to a means of escape—the patio door—if she needed one and it left her open to observe everyone in the room. The placement of her body was a tactically sound move, and it made me wonder if she'd positioned herself that way on purpose. Since there'd been seats open next to Emmett and I, there was a good chance she had. Of course, that could have been a coincidence.

Storm picked up her fork in one hand and cut into her French toast, popping the bite into her mouth. With her other hand, she kept absently twisting the chain of a silver necklace around her index finger. Then she turned her gaze to Rosalie and watched her just as she'd watched Esme, Carlisle and Emmett. This was a pattern with her, I'd noticed. I knew it was only a matter of time before she did the same thing with Edward, Alice and I, and it made me more certain that she'd sat at the foot of the table and positioned herself the way she had on purpose. Storm was sizing us all up, trying to figure out if any of us were a threat to her. If she determined that any of us were, she needed to know who to keep the closest eye on. It was smart.

The room was filled with the sound of forks and knives scraping plates and the slurping of juice, coffee and tea. The vampires were, for the most part, doing our best to push the food around our plates, only taking the occasional bite to save ourselves as much discomfort as possible. Storm had tried to eat slowly at first but soon inhaled her food and moaned just a little bit. That did nothing to dispel the thoughts I'd been struggling with since she'd entered the kitchen a few minutes ago. I tried to focus on something else, anything else, but her scent was everywhere, that little smile of hers had had my dick as hard as a rock since I'd laid eyes on her several minutes ago. Every time she moaned, I kept picturing her underneath me moaning for a completely different reason. It was the bloodlust, nothing more. Bloodlust often led to lust. It didn't mean I was actually attracted to her. I had to repeat that over and over in my head to dispel those images, once again thankful that Edward wasn't inside my head and also that I had a firm grip on my projection today.

Even as Storm inhaled her food, she continued watching us all, but if anyone noticed, they didn't give any indication of it. When her eyes fell on me, I stared right back, my eyes meeting hers in silent challenge. I'd expected her to avert her gaze immediately because humans always shied away from vampires. It was a natural survival instinct whether they were aware of it or not, and out of all of us I'd been told I was the most intimidating. I always pretended like that was news to me, but it wasn't. I was the Major, the God of War, the most feared vampire in the South, perhaps in all of North America, and my reputation wasn't bullshit. I was a scary motherfucker when I wanted to be.

But she didn't drop her gaze. She met it head on and held it, accepting my challenge as if it were nothing. It made me respect her, but it also pissed me off. I had earned that reputation through a lot of pain, suffering and bloodshed. Who did this insignificant human think she was undermining that? I wanted to wrap my hands around her neck in that moment and squeeze, but then the strangest thing happened: I got lost in those pretty brown eyes of hers. The whole world faded away, and it was just the two of us. It only happened for a second, but it left me in a daze. Thankfully, she seemed just as out of it, but that only lasted for a second as well. I didn't know what the hell it meant, but I didn't fuckin' like it. I cocked a brow at her in question as if to ask, _What the fuck are you starin' at_?

Storm blinked and turned her attention back to her food but otherwise seemed unfazed.

"How did you sleep, dear?" Carlisle asked, breaking the silence.

"Very well, thank you, Mr. Cullen," she responded politely. "That bed … there are no words for that bed."

"Please call me Carlisle," Carlisle told her with a smile.

"I'd rather not, sir," she told him seriously.

Carlisle frowned in disappointment, not understanding why she would refuse to call him by his first name. I imagined it was because she didn't understand why Carlisle and Esme were being so nice to her after she'd broken into their home. Sometimes, my adoptive parents forgot they were a rarity.

"In that case, it's Dr. Cullen." He sighed, trying his best not to show how disappointed he was and almost succeeding.

"Well, that explains the hulking monstrosity," she mumbled. Only Edward, Esme, Carlisle and I understood what that meant, and she'd whispered it low enough that no one could ask for her to clarify without raising suspicion even though I knew the others wanted to desperately.

"So," Alice chirped, changing the subject and starting the inquisition. "How long have you been in Forks?"

"Twelve hours," Storm answered succinctly.

"Where'd you come from?" Edward asked next.

"South."

"How long do you plan on staying?" Rose asked, her tone hostile.

Storm just looked at her. It wasn't a measuring look as it had been before, just an acknowledgment that she existed. "Not long."

"Where are your parents, honey?" It was Esme this time.

"Not here," she responded vaguely.

"What kind of stuff do you like?" Emmett asked, his eyes bright.

"Lollipops and candy canes," she said sarcastically, clearly losing her patience with the twenty questions game.

Emmett's and Alice's faces both fell in disappointment. They really wanted to know more about this girl, and since they hadn't been privy to Esme and Carlisle's memories of how they met her, they'd had no idea they were most likely going to hit a brick wall when they tried.

Storm noticed this and took pity on them, which wasn't something I'd been expecting.

"Motorcycles," she said, surprising everyone that she'd answered at all and willingly at that.

Against her better judgment, Rosalie's interest was piqued, and she hated it. She didn't want anything to get in the way of her hating this girl, and seeing as cars and motorcycles were one of Rose's intense passions that had the potential to do it. She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled, but I could feel that there was a little crack in the ice now.

"Any kind in particular?" Edward questioned this time. I was sure he was asking more for Emmett, Alice and especially Rosalie's benefit than his own. He couldn't care less about cars, aside from owning a nice one, and Rose was too stubborn to ask the question even though she clearly wanted to know the answer.

"Anything that goes upward of 150 miles per hour. Anything less is a waste of time," Storm answered.

_God, that's hot,_ I thought, a flash of heat shooting to my groin. I wondered what the girl would do if I pinned her to the wall. _Fuck! You will_ not_pin the human against the wall. You will_ not _pin the human against the wall._

With difficulty I managed to shove that shit out of my head, pretending that my dick wasn't currently trying to bust out of my boxer briefs, and focused on her emotions, which I'd been ignoring up until this point. Trying to feel this girl out was like trying to watch a TV with shitty satellite reception. Her emotions were flickering in and out so fast I couldn't figure out exactly what they were. I knew it wasn't because her emotions were actually shifting that fast. No one, not even vampires, were capable of feeling that much at such a rapid rate. Something was blocking me, but I didn't have a fuckin' clue what that something might be. I would have expected that her erratically pulsing emotions would make me dizzy. Instead, they just made me itch.

_"Can you feel her?"_ Edward's voice echoed in my head, loading his spoon with oatmeal and bringing it to his lips. He swallowed like it was painful. I was honestly surprised he hadn't asked sooner.

_"It's hard to get a read on her, but I can feel something," _I told him, pushing a bit of egg around my plate.

_"And?" _The fact that it wasn't Carlisle asking told me that Edward hadn't included him in this conversation. I suspected Carlisle wanted to give the whole of his attention to the girl at the moment since she seemed to be handing out some details about her life, vague though they might have been.

I wasn't looking forward to sharing what I'd felt from the girl, but I knew I had to. _I swear to God, if that emo fucker teases me for this, I'll rip him apart and burn the pieces, whether it hurts Alice's feelings or not._

_"She feels …" _I began hesitantly.

_"She feels …" _He trailed off impatiently.

_"Itchy," _I said, my tone daring him to say something smart.

_"Itchy?"_ Edward said incredulously._"What does that even mean, Jasper?"_

_"How the fuck should I know?" _I snapped, echoing his words from earlier.

_"Maybe you should ask her," _he suggested, sounding completely lost. He had no idea what to do with my answer. Neither did I.

I just barely restrained myself from snorting out loud._"And how exactly do you propose I do that, douche? 'Hey Storm, how are you feelin' right now? Itchy perhaps?' Maybe I should just ask her if she has the clap."_

Edward, who'd just taken a sip of orange juice, promptly choked, spraying that shit all over Rosalie, who sat across from him. Her mouth fell open in shock, her eyes squeezing shut to prevent juice from getting in them. Now she was _really _pissed. Her glare at Edward a fierce one as she pushed her chair back roughly so she could go clean herself off. It was funny as hell.

Edward couldn't stop coughing, and it sounded like he was trying to hack up a lung. Alice smacked him on the back in the hope that it would help him, but it didn't do much to relieve the situation. The human, the only one at the table who didn't know about Edward's gift and that he'd most likely reacted to something he'd heard in one of our heads, looked at him like he was a crazy person. Everyone else, besides me, looked at him either in concern or curiosity.

Several seconds later, Edward managed to get out a hoarse, "Excuse me," and left the table. Even though he went to the furthest bathroom from the dining room every vampire in the house could still hear him laughing his ass off.

oOo

"Come on!" Alice said, grabbing for the girl's hand.

Most of us had migrated into the living room now that breakfast was over with and the kitchen had been tidied.

Even though I was playing a video game with Emmett, who had tried and failed to convince the human to play with him, I couldn't seem to stop myself from watching the two of them out of the corner of my eye. I knew Alice well enough to know she had gotten some sort of idea in her head. I assumed this idea of hers was designed to get the girl to warm up to her since breakfast had been an epic failure on that front. Whether I was right or not, Alice was really excited about something. The hope and confidence she felt was pretty much slapping me in the face. Ordinarily, I would have liked that since hope was an emotion I rarely felt. On a day like today, however, when I was in such a shit mood, it should have annoyed me, but it distracted me from the itching that hadn't stopped since I'd tried to read the human's emotions, so I didn't care.

The girl jerked her hand out of the way at the last second and shoved both of them in her pockets. Alice's face immediately twisted with hurt, her bottom lip poking out in a pout, and her eyes took on that wounded puppy look that could break even the most hard-hearted person. At first, the girl looked completely unaffected, but the longer she looked at Alice, letting the puppy dog eyes sink in, the more uncertain her expression became.

Edward, who'd still been in the kitchen, came up behind the girl on his way to get to Alice. His footsteps had been nearly soundless as he still wasn't used to the idea of having to play the human charade in the one place we weren't supposed to have to pretend. Somehow she sensed him anyway. Her whole body tensed at his presence, not relaxing until Edward had passed by and her back no longer felt unprotected, or that's what I assumed. I couldn't really say I'd seen her relax the whole time she'd been in our house, but she relaxed as much as she seemed capable of in a strange environment. No sooner had he passed her than she shifted so that her back was to the wall, and I knew I was right. I had to admit that confused me because it hadn't been done out of mindless fear. Her demeanor hadn't been frenzied or panicked. Her movements had been calm and precise, measured and deliberate. It was another strategic maneuver. She didn't trust us, but even though I couldn't feel her emotions properly, nothing about her body language suggested she was afraid of us, and she should have been. She was afraid of something, though, and I couldn't help but wonder what.

_No,_ I reminded myself, _you do_ not _care why she might be afraid. You do_ not _care about her. She's a human, Jasper. She does not matter to you. She does not matter at all._

When Edward finally reached Alice's side, he pulled her into his arms in a distinctly non-fraternal hug and pressed an affectionate kiss to her forehead. Alice smiled up at him tenderly before returning the puppy dog eyes to the human.

Edward turned to the girl. "I wouldn't even bother trying to resist the puppy dog face. No one has ever been able to."

The girl considered this for a moment before replying, "What is it that you're expecting me to do, Tinkerbell? Because I have lines I won't cross."

Knowing better than to try to touch her this time, Alice smiled radiantly and motioned the girl forward, dancing the rest of the way into the living room. The girl gave her a wary look but stepped forward to follow her anyway. The next thing I knew, the human was sitting next to me on the couch and Alice was pulling the plug on Emmett's and my video game.

"What the hell, Ali?" Emmett protested in indignation. He'd been kicking my ass since I'd only been half paying attention. There was nothing he loved more than beating people, especially Edward and I, at any sort of game; except for Rosalie, the sex with her in particular.

Alice just turned the puppy dog look on him, causing Emmett to curse under his breath.

It turned out that Alice's idea of bonding was to make us all watch _The Notebook_. The movie had come out decades ago but was still her favorite. She must have made us all watch it a thousand times by now. The human didn't seem particularly enthused about Alice's choice of activity, but she didn't protest either.

I wanted to kill my midget sister, rip her into itty-bitty pieces and hide them all over Olympic National Park or possibly somewhere sunny because after she'd popped the movie in, she'd made Edward sit next to the girl and then taken a seat in his lap. The rest of the family had taken up the remainder of the chairs in the living room, so there was nowhere else for the human to go unless she wanted to sit on the floor. I was seriously tempted to shove her there, and the only reason I didn't was because I knew how much it would have upset Esme and Carlisle.

The next two hours of my life sucked. The human was two inches away from me the whole time, her heat and scent seeping into my pores. She smelled like sweet peas, lilies, caramel apples and fresh cotton. She smelled like home, and she kept twisting that silver necklace around and around her fingers, making me wish she was twisting her fingers around and around my cock. It drove me fuckin' crazy, and I honestly couldn't decide what I wanted more: to sink my teeth into her or fuck her.

_I do not care. I do not want to eat the human. I do not want to fuck the human. I do not care._ I repeated this over and over again for one hundred twenty-three minutes. I swear it was the longest one hundred twenty-three minutes of my life.

Carlisle and Esme needed to kick this girl out already.

oOo

**A/N:** Alright guys, what did you think? Up next, more JPOV. Will Bella continue to drive him crazy? I guess you'll just have to read to find out. :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters. Also, I did not come up with Jasper as the God of War. That idea belongs to IdreamofEddy.

**A/N: **Thank you to my awesome beta Laurie Whitlock, my pre-readers AlwaysJASPERsLOVE and Shadman, and my beloved sister Shelljayz who also happens to pre-read for me. :)

Thank you to Ellie Wolf for the beautiful banner she made for Longing and to Laurie for surprising me with it. I will be setting up a link in my bio so you can view it.

Thank you so much to everyone who have favorited, put this story on their alerts, or taken the time to review! You are all awesome! :)

I should probably also mention that my posting schedule will be on Sundays unless something comes up.

**Just a reminder:** Edward's gift is a bit different than usual. Not only can he read minds but he can also put his thoughts into other people's heads as well as do something akin to a 3-way phone call. It's not limited to three people but, essentially, he and anyone of his choosing can have conversations that are completely silent through his gift. To denote this, conversations that take place through Edward's gift are in _"italics with quotes" _while Jasper's individual thoughts are in plain italics.

oOo

_Late July 2080_

JPOV

When _The Notebook _ended, I couldn't get up fast enough. I had intended to leave the room but found myself taking a seat at the chess table in the corner instead, which only served to piss me off more and make me feel restless. I would make Alice pay for this. I didn't yet know how but I would make her suffer. Now I just had to figure out how to move things along in regard to Carlisle and Esme getting rid of the human. Then I wouldn't have to deal with this god-awful itching anymore; I wouldn't have to deal with the bloodlust, the ridiculous images it put in my head, or the way it made my body react against my will. Fortunately for me, I didn't have to figure out anything. Esme and Rosalie did that for me.

When the movie was over, Esme disappeared upstairs. While she was gone, which was all of about ten minutes, everyone but Rosalie and I tried engaging the girl in conversation without much success.

When Esme returned, she was carrying a garment bag, and a big shoe box with a brand new pair of thick, wool socks perched on top of it. She set them down on the coffee table in front of the couch the girl was sitting on and opened the shoe box to reveal a brand new pair of winter boots. Then she opened the garment bag, which had indeed contained an equally brand-spanking new winter coat. Both items were a product of Alice's last shopping spree and both items still had the tags on them.

"You're a size 8, right?" Esme asked, pulling a boot out of the box and setting it next to the girl's foot to compare.

The girl looked at Esme like she had grown a second head and didn't answer ... more like refused to.

_Shit! This isn't goin' to end well. _Maybe I couldn't feel it with my gift but it didn't take a genius to figure out that Esme was playing with fire. She didn't seem to notice this and continued on, pretty much answering her own question.

"These are a nine," Esme informed the girl, pulling the other boot out of the box and inspecting it, "but you need a bigger size with winter boots because of the kind of socks you have to wear with them."

This revelation ratcheted Rosalie's anger and irritation up a couple of notches. If those boots were a size nine, it meant they were hers and Esme had just given them to the human girl she hated without even asking her about it first.

"I didn't know that. I'll look into it," the girl said. Her wording was intended to let our well-intentioned mother know that she wanted nothin' to do with any of the clothing Esme had brought out.

Esme's emotions told me she was perfectly aware of this but she feigned ignorance. "Nonsense! There's no point 'looking into it' when I've got a perfectly good pair right here."

"That's not necessary," the girl said. Her tone was mild but her eyes held a warning in them that Esme would have been wise not to ignore.

But she did, completely fuckin' dismissed it actually, "Of course it is, dear. It's summer here so it's a little odd for it to be so cold right now but it's always raining whether it's summer or not so you need these things. Your sneakers and hoodie didn't survive the storm and even if they had, they're not appropriate for life here on the Olympic Peninsula. This is a small," she continued, gesturing to the coat, "so it should fit you."

Esme was really pushing her luck with this girl. From the looks on everyone's faces and the wariness they were projecting, I knew I wasn't the only one that thought so.

"No thank you," the girl said, her lips turning down into a scowl. I once again felt the urge to bite the bottom one.

_Goddamnit! _If she didn't leave soon I was going to start pulling my hair out.

"Esme-" Carlisle started, obviously hoping to avert disaster.

Esme ignored this too. She cared so much about this girl she was willing to do anything to help her, even if the girl didn't want it. "Don't be ridiculous-"

"I don't appreciate being called ridiculous," the girl said in a low, dark tone. She crossed her arms over her chest, her posture rigid.

All our eyes were glued to what was going on between our mother figure and our guest. In all the years I'd lived with the Cullens, I'd never seen anyone argue with or talk back to Esme. She was too sweet-natured and loving for anyone to even consider it, so it was shocking, to say the least. It was like we were in _The_ fuckin' _Twilight_ Zone or something.

Esme cringed and Carlisle moved to her side, "Esme-" he tried again.

But Esme wasn't willing to give up yet. She was so determined and hopeful that she could change the girl's mind, but the girl was so fuckin' stubborn.

"I'm sorry," Esme apologized genuinely. "That's not what I meant to imply but you really do need these things, sweetheart."

"I don't _need_ anything. You are not my mother," the girl growled even more venomously than she had the night before. Her anger in that moment was so strong that I felt it clearly. In spite of that anger, there was something in her eyes, a sort of desperation, that made me think that maybe she did want a mother whether it was Esme who filled that role or not; but the flash of emotion I'd felt from her faded away so quickly I began to question whether or not I'd actually felt it in the first place or if it had just been a figment of my imagination. "I am not your sweetheart. I don't want your boots or your socks or your coat!" she shouted, gesturing violently at the items in question. "I am _not _a charity case!"

If we'd all been shocked at the way she'd been talking to Esme before it was nothing to how we felt by the time her outburst was finished. Esme looked like she had been slapped, her despair at the girl's rejection so strong venom gathered in the corners of my eyes just the same as it had in hers.

Carlisle wrapped an arm around his mate's shoulders in comfort but, in typical Carlisle fashion, he felt empathy for the girl.

"Honey-" he began, speaking to the girl this time.

Before Carlisle could say what he'd intended, Rosalie stepped forward. She was feeling a sick sense of glee and anticipation, and as much as the girl had been driving me crazy, I felt a flash of foreboding. A part of me wanted to do something, to stop Rose from whatever it was she was planning but I couldn't. We were supposed to be playing human. Humans couldn't feel or manipulate the emotions of others. Maybe I should have made an exception at this point but I wouldn't.

_She's just a human. You do_ not _care._

"Aren't you?" Rosalie asked sweetly.

The whole time the girl had been here she hadn't shown much emotion in regard to anything and had proven to be hard to rile; except for when anyone so much as implied that she was a charity case. It was obvious that being considered charity was her Achilles heel, so Rose choosing to rip her claws into that particular wound was like kicking the girl in the figurative balls.

The girl looked confused for a moment, "What?"

"A charity case," Rosalie clarified, her lips curling up in a vindictive smile.

The girl's eyes flashed dangerously, her rage written all over her face and in her body language. Her fingers kept curling into fists, her fingernails digging into her palms hard enough to draw the tiniest bit of blood, the pressure turning her knuckles white before she released them; only to start the process all over again. I knew my eyes had gone black just as surely as everyone else's had. The burn in my throat intensified, again, just as I was sure everyone else's thirst was now more of an issue, but we were all too riveted by the confrontation between the two women to pay much attention to it. Later we would all reflect on how odd that was, but in that moment it didn't register.

"Rosalie!" Carlisle snapped, infuriated.

Rosalie ignored him. "I mean, here you are, sleeping in our guest room, using our shower, eating our food, wearing _my _clothes, making us all feel sorry for you. If that's not the definition of a charity case, I honestly don't know what is."

If someone had asked me before that moment if the human could get any angrier than she already was, I would have told them no. I was absolutely, utterly, horribly wrong.

The girl stood there breathing heavily, chest risin' and fallin' like she'd just run a 25 mile marathon at breakneck speed. The expression on her face was murderous, every bit as scary as any of Rosalie's at her most pissed off. It looked like she would have liked nothing more than to go all _Fight Club _on Rose's ass and that would have been a very, very bad thing.

I don't know what I'd been expecting to happen next, but what actually did blew my mind.

The girl let out a breath and all the anger appeared to have left her body with it. She leveled a piercing gaze at Rosalie, her eyes triumphant, mocking. Then she leisurely peeled the navy, scoop-necked sweater Esme had given her to wear over her head and tossed it to the ground. Next, she unfastened the ill-fitting skinny jeans, letting 'em pool at her ankles, stepping out of them calmly so that they were lying in a neat heap at her feet. That left her standing there in the middle of the room in nothing but the blue, lacy bra and panties that had 'Rosalie' written all over them, the silver necklace, which had a phoenix pendant, and a thick, wide, silver cuff bracelet with some sort of engraving on it that I couldn't make out because of the angle I was at.

_Christ! _I cursed, trying not to stare and failing miserably. The girl was too fuckin' skinny, and the bra and boyshorts didn't fit right. I shouldn't have found her sexy in the least. I liked my women somewhat curvy and curvy she most definitely was not, but even though she was underweight, what little body mass she did have was firm muscle. Plus, she was all long legs and her breasts were damn nice for how thin she was. I could see that with some meat on her bones, her shape would be heavenly with a tight little ass and fantastic breasts to boot.

_What the hell is this girl tryin' to do to me?_

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to get the image of her warm, scantily clad, little body out of my head but it was seared into my eyelids. Even if it hadn't been, she would still be standing there, nearly naked, in the middle of my living room when I opened them again and I _would _open them again. I was a man, after all. I wasn't going to keep my eyes shut and miss the opportunity to ogle a perfectly decent looking half-naked girl.

_It's okay to look, Jasper,_ I reassured myself as I finally reopened my eyes. _Just because you look doesn't mean you actually give a fuck. She's still just a human. She still doesn't matter. You still do_ not _care._

The girl cocked her head at Rose, gave her a cocky little smirk and shrugged, "Now, I'm not wearing your clothes … mostly." She glanced down at her breasts and ran her finger under the strap of the bra, letting it snap back against her skin, "This is yours as well, right?" The girl looked back up, that cocky, fuckin' _sexy_, little smirk still on her lips, daring Rosalie to say something, but my sister wasn't quick enough. "Because if you have such a problem with me wearing your clothes, I could take this off too," she said, "and from the way your _brother_ is staring," and Emmett _was _staring - we all were, "I don't think he would mind."

The thought of her stripping off those lacy bits of fabric had me biting back a groan and my dick twitching in my pants but from the way the girl had enunciated the word brother, it was clear she wasn't referring to me or Edward, and Rosalie knew it. The saucy little wink the girl threw Emmett's way was confirmation that none of us needed. It was pretty much the equivalent of stabbing a rabid bull in the ass with a red hot poker, but the girl had known that when she'd done it.

I'd never been more turned on or impressed in my life. The success of Rose's little scheme to make the human miserable had hinged on taking what had obviously been her deepest insecurity and turning it against her. Instead, the girl had fought through Rose's mind fuck, figured out her game and turned the tables brilliantly. Rosalie may have kicked the girl in the balls but, damn, she'd kicked my bitch of a sister right back with even more zeal.

_Human-1; Rosalie-0._

With a shriek of unadulterated rage, Rose lunged only to be held back by her mate.

"You skanky little bitch," she howled, struggling hard against Emmett's strength. "I'll fucking kill you! I swear to God, I'll-"

"Rosalie, that's enough!" Carlisle snapped again, glarin' at her. It was the harshest look I had ever seen him give anyone and it actually shut her up.

Then he gave me a look that told me I had his blessing to take control of the situation, so I shot a dose of calm at Rosalie. It took the edge off her fury - I couldn't very well turn her into a docile little lamb now could I? It did stop her struggling immediately but that could easily have been explained away by Emmett's size and current hold on her, which circumvented any suspicion off of me and anything supernatural in origin.

"Take a walk and cool down," Carlisle commanded his oldest daughter coldly. "We'll be having a serious talk when you get back. Emmett, go with her."

Emmett took Rose by the elbow and had to forcibly drag her from the room, the girl smirking all the while as she watched them go. Not long after, the sound of screeching tires filled the air and an engine revved as Rose's BMW pealed out of the garage and sped down the driveway.

_"You weren't kidding when you said this girl had balls," _I told Edward, unable to keep the admiration out of my "voice."

_"She has a goddamn death wish!" _he exclaimed.

_"Some people just aren't born with a survival instinct," _I said. I couldn't shrug but it was implied in my tone.

_"Even so,"_ Alice chimed in, _"you have to admit that was pretty awesome. I've never seen anyone put Rosalie in her place like that."_

The three of us just grinned at each other. It's not that we didn't love Rose but she'd taken things too far.

_She's just a human. You do_ not _care._

"Please put your clothes back on," Carlisle requested of our near naked guest.

_Please, please don't._

Carlisle was 100% composed, acting as though a teenage girl hadn't just stripped down to her underwear in front of his entire family and almost provoked his most volatile offspring into murdering her in a very gruesome and bloody manner.

The girl bent over to collect the sweater from the floor by her feet and my eyes zeroed in on her ass. She really was trying to torture me. She did the same thing with the jeans and I felt the urge to choke her again. Either that or rip those panties off and take her from behind. It was then that I came to a sudden realization. I didn't want this girl at all. It had just been way too damn long since I'd gotten laid and that was easily fixable. This girl would leave, I would head up to Denali to get my rocks off, and I would never think about her again. I let out a breath of relief. Didn't mean I wasn't sorry when she pulled her clothes back on.

"Alice, Edward, Jasper," Esme said, sounding calm when she was anything but, "please go to your rooms."

We didn't argue, just headed upstairs. I went to my room like a good little boy but a good little boy I was not. I was restless, pacing, literally unable to stand still. I couldn't stay in this house and there was no longer any reason I should have had to. My presence was no longer required, not that it really had been in the first place and so I pried my window open, stepped out onto the sill and jumped gracefully to the ground.

"Esme and I would like to speak with you, Storm," I heard Carlisle say.

As I headed toward the tree line, I couldn't stop myself from looking back at the house. The girl would be gone by the time I got back.

_Good riddance._

Once I started running, I didn't look back a second time.

oOo

"Esme and I would like to speak with you, Storm," Carlisle said, ushering the girl ahead of him and in the direction of his office.

He was still trying to wrap his head around what had happened between his daughter and this formidable girl who had broken into his home not fifteen hours ago. He wanted to kill Rosalie. Regardless of how they'd come to meet, the circumstances of which Rose was still ignorant, the girl was still a guest in their home and should have been treated as such whether Rosalie liked the idea of her being there or not. He'd thought she at least had enough respect for him to honor that. He'd been wrong and he couldn't remember ever being so angry.

As far as the teenager before him went, he honestly didn't have any idea what to do with her. He had come to care about her a great deal in the short amount of time he'd known her. She was hard, stubborn, sarcastic, and proud with trust issues a mile high but she was also vulnerable, considerate, smart, and brave with a great sense of humor. He knew nothing about her and yet he wanted to protect her, to care for her as if she were his own. If things were different, he wouldn't hesitate to try to make that a viable option for her but things weren't different. He and his family were vampires and bringing her into their lives on a more permanent basis was too great a risk. Even if it hadn't been, the likelihood of her being open to such an offer after the events of the past hour had just dropped to nil.

Storm moved ahead of him, still straightening her clothes, following his directions to his office without a word. As soon as they entered, she flopped down into one of his wingback chairs. He and Esme took a seat across from her on the matching couch.

The three of them just looked at each other for a moment, gauging each other's moods and reactions. This wasn't something Carlisle was used to having to do anymore. He had been with his family members long enough to be able to tell what mood they were in with nothing more than a glance. Jasper was the only exception to this. He was still very much an enigma to Carlisle most of the time. He only let you in when he wanted to and most of the time he _didn't _want to, but he was still a good man who cared immensely about the family.

"I'm sorry for making a scene," Storm said, and she did sound like she meant it, "but I won't apologize for not taking shit from your daughter. Not to you and, most definitely, not to her."

Her tone was fierce, non-negotiable. Carlisle respected it even if most of his beliefs centered on the concepts of compromise and pacifism. Esme respected it also. She wanted to apologize for her earlier actions, for Rosalie's, but she was afraid to say a word. Everything she seemed to say or do was wrong with this girl and she didn't want to make things any worse, so she was going to let Carlisle do all the talking from now on. He always seemed to know what was best to do in any situation.

"I don't expect you to apologize for that," Carlisle told her, his expression serious. "I never should have let things get so out of hand. _I_ apologize to _you_ for my daughter's behavior."

Storm's face showed a brief moment of shock before she schooled her features. Apparently, she'd been expecting Carlisle to reprimand her for her behavior.

"Do I wish you would have handled the situation without the shedding of clothes?" he said, unable to keep one corner of his mouth from quirking up. "Of course, but I much prefer shed clothing to shed blood."

The girl had no idea just how true that statement was.

"Oh," she said, her expression on the cusp of amused, "I don't know about that."

Carlisle looked at her questioningly.

"I would think it would depend on what's easier to get out," she replied dryly, "the blood stains or the image of me in my underwear."

This effectively broke the tension in the room, wide smiles breaking out on Carlisle and Esme's faces, though Esme was still filled with guilt and anxiety.

"If you didn't bring me in here to discuss my stripping, what did you want to talk to me about?" Storm asked, getting back down to business.

Carlisle folded his hands in his lap. "We need you to tell us how to get in contact with your parents."

Storm folded her arms across her chest, her expression hardening stubbornly the way he and Esme had seen too many times since they'd met her. They were in for another fight it seemed. It was hardly surprising to either of them when she didn't respond.

"Storm," Carlisle said, his voice even and reasonable, "if you don't tell us how to contact your parents, we'll have to call Child Protective Services instead."

She regarded Carlisle with contempt but remained silent.

"We don't want to call them," he told her emphatically, a note of pleading in his tone, "but nothing has changed since last night. We're still the adults in this situation and we still have to take your best interests into consideration here."

Storm laughed. It was a full belly-laugh, the kind that should have made you want to smile and join in. This laugh made Carlisle and Esme feel sick.

"Adults are hilarious, you know? They think that just because they have managed to live beyond the ripe old age of 18 that they're omniscient and all-powerful. I was starting to think that you might be different. Obviously, you're not but that joke's on me, I guess," she said bitterly. "Well, newsflash, asshat," she bristled, "you don't know me. You don't even know what my best interests _are_, and you sure as hell don't get to decide where I go, what I do, or how I live. Those are things that belong to me and me alone. You don't get to take that away from me. No one does."

She stood up abruptly, sending the wingback chair skidding backward several feet, and marched over to his desk. Closing her hand around the phone, she jerked it off its base and held it out to him impatiently.

"Be my guest, Doc," Storm challenged, "make the call; but the only way I'm sticking around for Child Protective Services to haul me off is if you employ the use of fisticuffs and you really don't look the fisticuffs type. Feel free to prove me wrong if you're that determined, but I don't fight fair when it comes to shit like this and considering that the only bullet you've got in your gun is how filthy, fucking rich you are, that doesn't count for much because there is no amount of money in the world that will keep me here."

"We just want to help you," Carlisle said miserably, trying desperately to figure out at which point in this conversation he had gone so horribly wrong. He'd known it would be tough but he hadn't been expecting _this_. Then again, she was just coming off her confrontation with Rosalie so her emotions were high and she never had responded well to the threat of authority of any kind. Maybe he should have requested Jasper's presence for this.

"Fuck you and your help," Storm spat, her eyes full of hurt and hatred.

Then she turned on her heel and walked out of Carlisle's office … out of their lives.

oOo

**A/N:** So ... What did you think? Hopefully you guys aren't too mad at me for some of the things in this chapter. Be kind. :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters. Also, I did not come up with Jasper as the God of War. That idea belongs to IdreamofEddy.

**A/N: **Thank you to my awesome beta Laurie Whitlock, my pre-readers AlwaysJASPERsLOVE and Shadman, and my beloved sister Shelljayz who also happens to pre-read for me. :)

Thank you to Ellie Wolf for the beautiful banner she made for Longing and to Laurie for surprising me with it. I will be setting up a link in my bio so you can view it.

The response to the last couple chapters has been amazing! I can't thank all of you enough for reading this story, favoriting, and following it. To the people who have reviewed you are awesome. I usually try to respond to each and every one of them. This week I didn't get a chance to. My interpersonal communication professor had me doing some crazy, crazy things that I would never in a million years do if he hadn't made them an assignment and the rest of my week was just as busy. If I didn't respond to your review, I'm sorry. :(

So, this chapter is all about Jasper and how he has been doing since Bella left. Enjoy!

oOo

September 2080

_Dr. & Mrs. Cullen,_

_We didn't part on the best of terms and I can't say that I'm sorry for that, but there is one thing I am sorry for. I shouldn't have left without telling you thank you for everything you did for me. I'm not the greatest at expressing things like gratitude. Sarcasm and stubbornness are more my forte, but I am grateful nonetheless. Despite how we left things, I do believe you cared about me and that you really did want to help me in your own misguided way._

_I don't like owing people things so I had to find some way to repay you for your kindness and since money is obviously something you don't need, I had to think outside the box a little. It occurred to me that you might be "pay it forward" kind of people, so I donated the clothing you gave me to Goodwill (no I'm not running around naked) and some canned food to the local food bank. It wasn't much but I'm sure it will do someone somewhere some good._

_Take care of yourselves,_

_Storm_

oOo

JPOV

I was annoyed; seriously, utterly, endlessly annoyed. Carlisle and Esme, Edward and Alice, and Emmett and Rosalie were all in their respective rooms doing God knows what. I may not have known what exactly they were doing but I definitely knew what they weren't. Not one of the mated couples living in this house were having sex and for the first time since I'd come to live with the Cullens, I wished that at least one of them, if not all, was.

The emotions coming from all three couples were the sweet, intense, deep ones only the mating bond could produce and it was driving me crazy. Normally, I laid back and absorbed that shit like a dry sponge but I wasn't in the mood for it at the moment. I hadn't been for a long time. Love, contentment, happiness, peace ... I could feel it but I couldn't _feel _it lately; not that I ever really had, but it had gotten worse. Seeing it, hearing it, feeling it, being fuckin' immersed in it all the fuckin' time but not being a part of it was doing nothing but making me restless and fuckin' itchy. I didn't know what the hell to do with all that mushy, lovey-dovey shit, but good, old-fashioned, rip your clothes off, animalistic lust? I definitely knew what to do with that and the end result of said knowledge would do wonders in helping to take the edge off of how tense I was.

Of course, it wasn't like I really needed to leech off their hormones while in the throes of passion to get off, but in the past weeks there had only been one person I seemed capable of fantasizing about when my hand was on my cock whether she was the woman that started out in my head in the beginning or not. When I was using everyone else's lust to satiate my body's cravings, it was mindless, frenzied, uncomplicated, and when I was finished I didn't have to spend hours trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me for picturing her of all people. For wanting her brown eyes looking into my golden ones, the soft silk of her brown hair sliding through my fingers or the heat of her skin pressed against mine. Even when I'd been in Denali with Kate, Tanya, or Irina, the last two of the three of them I had steadfastly refused to touch in that way in decades since they didn't understand the concept of friends with benefits until that weekend, it was still her face I saw and those things I craved.

But it wasn't just her body I thought about. I wondered about her, about how she was doing, if she was okay. I imagined having conversations with her, asking her what her favorite color was, if she liked to read.

_Fuckin' human!_

This wasn't how it was supposed to work. She was supposed to leave and I was never supposed to think about her again. That was how it was _supposed _to be. Instead, it seemed like she was all I thought about and if I ever managed not to think about her, I was being sucked back into memories of my life before the Cullens, to my life with Maria in the Southern Vampire Wars ... blood, death, destruction, chaos, and violence; and that was just as much her fault as all my deviant sexual thoughts. The way she'd carried herself - never leaving her back unprotected, constantly aware of her surroundings, her clear dislike of being touched; all of it had thrown me into a tailspin. It wasn't that I didn't struggle with that stuff anyway. You didn't spend a century at war and just leave that shit behind, but I'd finally been able to get a handle on some of it, box it up and leave it in the figurative attic in my brain so to speak. Her presence had gone and fucked that up and that, in conjunction with her naked body continually popping into my head, had been pissing me off for five goddamn weeks. If I ever saw her again I was going to snap her skinny, little neck.

On top of all that, I'd been calling Peter for nearly as long as the human had been driving me insane and the fucker wasn't returning my phone calls.

After an hour of failed attempts to read and absorb the first paragraph of the newest book I'd bought, another hour of trying to get lost in the music as I strummed my beloved acoustic guitar, Charlotte Rose, and still failing to wall myself off from the soft, romantic devotion of my family members, I couldn't take it anymore. So it was three o'clock in the morning on a Tuesday and it was only the second week of school, at which I had to be in five hours. I couldn't bring myself to care, I just needed to get the hell out of the fuckin' house.

Decision made, I raced to the garage at vampire speed, grabbing my keys and heading to my Mustang. As I climbed into the driver's seat, I waited with mounting dread for one or more of my family members to appear … to ask me where I was going when I didn't know the answer or, worse yet, try to stop me from going when, for whatever reason, this was what I needed to do. No one did. Deciding not to push my luck or tempt fate by lingering any longer than I already had, I started the engine, put the car in gear and took off.

oOo

As I passed by the "You are now leaving Forks" sign, I reflected on a scene a couple weeks earlier; a scene very similar to the one today, except for the fact that I had actually been present to witness the actions behind the emotions.

_-Flashback-_

_I was sitting in a corner pretending to be absorbed in the book in my lap, which was something I did often. Most of the time I used it as a way to covertly, with the exclusion of Alice, observe my family, though that wasn't its sole function; especially on a quiet Sunday morning like this when we were all together but at the same time wrapped up in our own thing._

_Alice was on the couch with a sketch pad in her lap, giving life to the newest fashion masterpiece she'd conjured up. Edward was at her feet, scribbling in a composition book as he hummed the latest piece of music swirling around in his head. Her foot drifted until it was flush against his arm, where her big toe began rubbing little circles against his skin. He smiled softly before reaching up, grabbing it and giving it a squeeze, causing Alice to smile tenderly._

_Emmett was sitting at the opposite end of the couch, gripping a game console controller as tightly in his fists as he could without breaking it. He was playing a new racing game and the tip of his tongue was poking out of the side of his mouth as he concentrated on winning his current race. He couldn't seem to keep his eyes from straying in Rosalie's direction to see if she was paying attention. He did things like this from time to time, like buying a video game that had a direct correlation to something he knew Rose was passionate about in an attempt to bring them together in a way that didn't revolve around sex._

_For all Emmett's jokes and innuendos, his underlying emotions regarding her were really very sweet. Rose, who was sitting in an arm chair right next to the couch on Emmett's side with a thick European auto parts catalogue braced diagonally across her forearms, let her lips curl upward just the tiniest bit as she pretended not to notice. It was her standard response to the gesture because she was Rose and she had to make him work for it, but she could never keep that up for very long. She would be asking him to teach her how to play within the hour._

_Carlisle and Esme were seated at opposite ends of the family chess set, absorbed in their game strategy. Like their hands had magnets embedded in their fingertips, they reached for each other under the table at precisely the same moment. They met halfway, their fingers lacing neatly together as a soft sigh escaped both of them at each other's touch. _

_The couples' interactions were a big part of why I secretly watched them. I found all of it to be equal parts fascinating and irritating because all of it was directly linked to the mating bond and I was always trying to understand the whole thing. I'd just never been able to grasp the appeal._

_-End Flashback-_

I hadn't been able to stomach that day either and I'd ended up using hunting as an excuse to leave. There were only so many times a guy could throw up in his mouth before he started to get really uncomfortable, after all. I'd been gone for hours when Alice had come to find me.

_-Flashback-_

_I heard, smelled, and felt Alice approach but didn't turn my head to look at her. I didn't know where I was because I hadn't cared enough to pay attention. All I knew was that I was deep in the woods somewhere northeast of Forks, and was currently lounging up against an ancient redwood tree that was big enough around that four Emmetts with their arms all linked together couldn't manage to encompass, watching as twilight transformed into evening._

_"Jasper?" Her voice was uncertain, her primary emotion concern. _

_"Hey, munchkin," I greeted lazily, knowing how much she hated that nickname, and using it to purposely annoy her. Despite this, I was glad to see her. I wasn't really keyed up anymore and it had been a little while since she and I had spent any time alone together. I missed her and the days when it had just been the two of us. Things had been less complicated then. She'd just been Alice and I'd just been Jasper, two vampires with fucked up pasts finding comfort in each other and, well, fuckin'. We loved each other but we didn't _love_ each other, and that had been enough for me, aside from the trying not to kill humans bit anyway._

_"You smell," she told me, wrinkling her nose. I could tell from her emotions that she was more amused than disgusted._

_"Gee," I said sarcastically, "thanks."_

_"No, no," she protested, teasing, "it's a good thing you decided to wear more of that mountain lion and that cougar and that bear _and_ those deer than you actually managed to eat of them; otherwise, it would have taken me forever to find you."_

_"Ha ha," I said, rolling my eyes as she took a seat next to me. So I hadn't been quite as neat with my hunting this time as I usually was. I didn't really care about that either because clean or dirty, I still itched. It wasn't an itch that could be relieved by raking your fingernails across your skin. It was an internal kind of itch, one I felt in my bones and it made me want to crawl out of my skin. "You're hilarious."_

_"Obviously," she remarked, as though I'd just said the most idiotic thing in the world. "You really do need a shower."_

_"I'll get right on that."_

_"Put these on," Alice commanded in that bossy way she seemed to reserve for Edward and I, tossing a shopping bag at my head._

_I caught it, still without looking at her, before it beaned me in the ear._

_"What's wrong with what I have on?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest with a scowl and letting my irritation flow out into the forest freely. Alice knew how much I hated it when she tried to dress me._

_"Oh relax," she huffed impatiently. "It's a t-shirt and jeans, 100% Jasper-approved apparel."_

_"I still don't see what's wrong with what I have on," I said stubbornly._

_"Aside from the fact that you're wearing most of your dinner and half the forest," Alice said, her disapproval rolling over me, "you let all those carnivores murder your clothes before you ate them. How have you not noticed that there's hardly anything left of what you were wearing before you went hunting?"_

_"Yes," I said, my tone mildly acerbic, "wardrobe is obviously my first priority right now."_

_"Jasper," she scolded, "you're practically naked!"_

_I finally turned to look at her, smirking. "It's nothin' you haven't seen before, Ali."_

_She smacked me in the shoulder, hard. "Doesn't mean I need to see it again."_

_"Suit yourself," I said with a shrug, getting to my feet and moving behind the tree to change. The fact that I was practically naked was yet another thing I didn't care about but Alice was obviously mourning the gruesome demise of my previous outfit._

Wouldn't want to drag out the grievin' process, would I?

_When I was finished dressing, I came out from behind the tree and dug a little hole a few feet in front of it, then cast a glance over my shoulder at Alice. Having seen my intentions, she was by my side in an instant, eyes alight with laughter. She had retrieved the ruined clothing, folded it carefully, and now placed it gingerly into the hole._

_"Would you like to eulogize or shall I?" I asked._

_"You should do the honors, Jasper," Alice answered, restin' her hand on my forearm in mock-comfort. "You knew them so much better than I."_

_I blew out a melodramatic breath, blanketing the forest in manufactured melancholy, and clasped my hands together behind my back._

_"Dolce & Gabbana jeans and Armani t-shirt, as we lay you to your eternal rest, we pray you know that you will be missed. You served your purpose well and you met an ugly end far before your time, and damn it, you were designer," I mock-raged in faux heartbreak. "It's just … it's just not fair!" I wailed, turning to Alice and burying my face in her shoulder, which was difficult to do since she was so short and I was so not._

_Alice's tiny arms flew around me as she shushed and comforted me, her whole body vibrating with the effort not to burst out giggling at my antics. We lasted a full minute before we lost it. Her loud peals and my quieter, more subdued laughter echoed through the trees, clearing them of birds for several hundred yards around us. Even with the glow of her light-hearted happiness floating around me like early morning fog, it didn't quite penetrate me. I still felt off and that realization sucked all the fun and humor out of our silly playing around. I kept on pumping out the good humor to keep up appearances even though I wasn't in the moment anymore. I didn't want to answer any questions my abrupt mood change might have aroused because there was nothing wrong with me. I was fine. So, I was a moody bastard. I was an empath for Christ's sake! Sue me._

_After Alice calmed down, we sat down and settled back against the tree the way we had before. We were quiet for a while after that, sitting next to each other and looking up at the stars._

_"You've been out here a long time," she said, breaking the silence._

_"Have I?" I returned airily, trying to make everything seem as insignificant as it was. She was worried about me and she wanted to have a serious conversation about it, but I didn't want serious and I didn't want her worry. I was fine. Restless and itchy, but fine._

_"Mmhmm," she hummed. I expected her to dive right into her interrogation but she lapsed into silence again, one that lasted for several minutes. "You gonna tell me what's wrong?"_

_"Nothin' is wrong," I told her without hesitation, my voice strong and unyielding._

_Alice snorted in disbelief, "And I wear underwear from Walmart."_

_"The day you wear underwear from Walmart is the day that I will allow Lauren Mallory to dry hump me in the middle of the hallway of Forks High," I deadpanned._

_"Well," Alice said thoughtfully, mischief snaking out of her despite her attempts to keep it in, "there is a Walmart in Port Angeles. If I start running now, I can get there by the time they open."_

_"Bitch," I grumbled crossly. The thought of Lauren Mallory touching me made the itching stop but replaced it with something worse – the searing burn of permanent defilement. _

_Alice giggled briefly before turning and getting back down to business, "Seriously, Jazz."_

_"I already told you I'm fine," I insisted. And I was._

_"Jasper…" she trailed off warningly._

_"Why did you bother askin' me at all if you were just goin' to ignore my answers?" I snapped._

_"Because it's polite," she said matter-of-factly. _

_I turned to glare at her but she already had the puppy dog look firmly in place with the emotions to match. That shit pissed me the fuck off. After a while it would melt me, but for now I was holding onto the anger._

_"Don't you already know?" I asked bitingly, projecting just how irritated I was._

_"I'm not omniscient, Jasper," Alice said. I could feel how hard she was trying to be patient with me but I wasn't making it easy on her and I could feel her starting to lose the battle._

_"Nothin' is wrong," I insisted again, my tone not the least bit changed._

_"You're just …" she trailed off again, this time hesitantly, trying to find the right words. Hesitancy wasn't the only emotion she was feeling though. Alice was sad. She was my best friend; outside of Peter, and I had made her sad. I should have felt bad about that but I felt … nothing._

_"Just what?"_

_"You're not acting like yourself," she concluded._

_"And who, exactly, is that?" I asked, my voice vehement._

_Alice frowned, confused, her concern intensifying. "What does that mean, Jasper?"_

_"Nothin'," I answered, refocusing my gaze on the stars._

_"Is it …"_

_"Is it what Alice?" I only asked because it was what you were supposed to do in polite conversation and I was suddenly too tired (yes, I know, a tired vampire – how very oxymoronic) to be angry with her for prying._

_"Is it _her_?" she asked quietly._

_Just as suddenly as the fatigue had settled over me, it fled and I lay there, frozen._

_How the fuck could she possibly know the way the human had been haunting me? How?_

_"It's okay, you know," Alice continued. She was speaking to me as if I was a wounded animal ready to attack if approached the wrong way and I was. "You spent such a long time with her there in that hell hole …"_

Wait? What?

_I was confused but just for a moment before I realized who she was talking about. She wasn't talking about the human, she was talking about Maria. Maria was one of my biggest issues but the current bane of my existence was the human. I was relieved that she hadn't figured out that it was the human driving me batshit crazy but I didn't want to talk about Maria either. I never wanted to talk about her or the Southern Wars. I never did or would. Alice knew this, the whole family did, and by now they knew better than to ask, not unless they wanted to lose a limb or risk me retreating so far into myself I didn't speak for months. I guess I really must have been in a funk if she went against that unspoken agreement._

_"Leave it alone, Alice," I said with finality and unmistakable warning._

_She nodded and grabbed my chin between her thumb and index finger, forcing me to look at her. Her sadness was reflected in her eyes when she told me, "I'm here, Jazz. I'm always here if you ever change your mind."_

_"I know Ali, but I'm fine. Stop worryin'," I ordered with an easy grin that had her beaming back at me. The thing about being an empath, it's real easy to fake shit like that, but just because I faked it didn't mean I wasn't okay. It just meant I needed to be alone again. "Thanks for the clothes."_

_Alice's smile went from beamin' to nearly splitting her face in two, "Of course! See you back at the house."_

_I tipped an imaginary cowboy hat at her and she turned on her heel, disappearing into the trees and leaving me in peace._

_-End Flashback-_

Even though I experienced the emotions that were irreversibly connected with mating because of my relationships with Esme and Carlisle, Edward and Alice, Rosalie and Emmett, and Peter and Charlotte I still had a hard time wrapping my head around the idea that love like that really existed. I sometimes entertained the idea that if I watched all the mated couples I knew enough I might find some evidence, no matter how big or small, that might prove that mating was a myth. It wasn't that I wanted to deny my family members that earth-shattering, soul-quaking, unbreakable eternal bond; hell, I didn't want to deny myself the ability to mooch it off them like a phantom third wheel. I just didn't like the idea of mating _at all_. The two instances in which I'd actually seen two vampires come together through the pull of that bond had effectively cemented that viewpoint. Under the influence of its power, all choice was taken completely out of your hands. You weren't asked your opinion on the matter, you couldn't choose who to be with and you couldn't not love them … your freedom was essentially stripped from you like flesh being peeled away from a bone.

It was a loss of control that was completely unacceptable to me because I'm anal as fuck about bein' in control, though I didn't have any personal desire to be in control of anyone besides myself. Control-freak automaton was a role I'd had to play while serving in the Southern Wars under Maria. I'd only done it to please her, stupid though that had been, not because it was who I was as a person, and I'd had enough of that shit long before I'd created Charlotte. Now, I didn't concern myself with what a person did or didn't do as long as their actions and decisions didn't pose a direct threat to me or the people I cared about, but my change and my time fighting was where my need for control over my own fate came from.

Maria had swooped into my life, ruthless and unstoppable, and taken everything from me—my career, my friends, my family and my heartbeat. I had been powerless to stop her as a human, carrying over the feeling of that disadvantage despite the burn of the change, and I'd spent the first century of my life as a vampire living under her thumb not only suffering her cruelty myself, but bringing others along for the ride through my ignorance. I'd thought that Maria had been a force of nature but I'd been wrong because nothing can kill Mother Nature and indestructible though vampires are, we can still be killed. No, _mating_ was the force of nature. _It _was unstoppable, ruthless and utterly unforgiving. There was no turning away from it, no trying to make it see reason or begging it to leave you the fuck alone. If it ever swept into my life I would be just as powerless against it as I'd been when I met Maria that day in Galveston, and that loss of control wasn't something I ever wanted to feel again. I wouldn't have minded handing over my control if it meant deciding whether or not I preferred the sun to the moon or rain to snow because that was trivial stuff that didn't mean much, and I wasn't so anal that I'd lose my shit over little details like that; but something as huge and life-altering as the person I'd spend eternity with? No fuckin' thank you. I didn't want anything to do with any freaky vampire love-potion hoopla.

This was what I thought about as I drove. Aside from going hunting once in what I was pretty sure was Colorado, I only stopped to fill my gas tank. When I drove in a direction that didn't feel right, I turned around and drove until I found a direction that did and then drove until that direction didn't anymore. I didn't know where I was going or why, and I didn't care. I just knew that I needed to be doing this, driving, that it felt better to me than anything had in a while and I would keep doing it until I lost that.

Finally, after what I would later learn was four days of haphazard travel, I felt something ease in my chest, the itching that had been grating on my sanity calming a bit, and looked up to see a "Welcome to Louisville, Kentucky" sign pass me by. This seemed like a good place to stop for a little while.

oOo

A/N: Just so we're clear, I did not enjoy writing Jasper hooking up with any of the Denali girls. Many reviewers expressed an issue with this and I happen to share that sense of yuckiness. However, I do have my reasons for writing that so I hope all of you can forgive me for it.

Hopefully, the insight into Jasper's views on mating has shed some light on his cluelessness as well as his stubbornness.

So what did you think? And why would he possibly think Louisville is a good place to stop? :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters. Also, I did not come up with Jasper as the God of War. That idea belongs to IdreamofEddy. The idea of Peter 'just knowing shit' is not mine either.

**A/N: **My prayers go out to all those suffering the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy. I wish all of you well and hope that you will be able to get back on your feet as smoothly as possible.

Thank you to my awesome beta Laurie Whitlock, my pre-readers AlwaysJASPERsLOVE and Shadman, and my beloved sister Shelljayz who also happens to pre-read for me. :)

Thank you to Ellie Wolf for the beautiful banner she made for Longing and to Laurie for surprising me with it. I will be setting up a link in my bio so you can view it. I have added a picture of Bella's phoenix pendant from chapter 7.

Again, all of you are awesome! Thank you to everyone who has read, favorited, and followed. And to those of you who have reviewed - I heart you! :)

So, I'm feeling a bit of a need to let you inside Jasper's head a little more so you're not too hard on him for being so stubborn and thick in regard to figuring out that he and Bella are mates. He's got some serious control issues because of his time in the Southern Wars, as we discovered last chapter, which have skewed his views of mating and he has quite a few misconceptions about it. He doesn't want a mate which is contributing somewhat to his confusion but the main reason he hasn't figured it out is this: He thinks because he's an empath and has lived with so many mated couples that he knows everything there is to know about mating and the bond that goes with it. He does know about it, there is no denying that, but what I want to get across is that feeling the bond between someone else and going through the process yourself is a very different experience. Does is have similarities? Of course, but everyone is different; therefore, everyone's experiences and feelings during that process are unique. Plus, because he is so opposed to mating, he has never asked any of the mated pairs he knows about what they went through. This is a big part of why he's clueless. There are other reasons too, but I won't go into those.

Alright, Louisville here we come ...

oOo

_September 2080_

Alice was curled up on the white leather chaise lounge that sat before the window wall in the bedroom she shared with Edward, gazing out into the night sky without really seeing it when she was blindsided.

Jasper had been gone for four days now and she was frustrated. She'd let him go without argument and convinced the family to do the same because she knew that was what he needed. Also, she'd seen what would happen if they'd tried to make him stay. It hadn't been pretty. She had comforted herself with the knowledge that she'd be able to keep tabs on him through her gift but that hadn't worked out. Jasper hadn't been making decisions so her visions of him had been few and far between. She wasn't sure if he was doing it to purposely shut her out after she'd brought up Maria and his past; he'd been even more distant and closed off since then but she suspected he was just going with the flow, which she supposed was a good thing. He got stuck in his head sometimes. A lot of people did, but considering what was locked away in his head, that was not a good thing. Needless to say, she had no idea where he was and it made her anxious.

The "kids" were hunting and Esme and Carlisle had gone on a weekend trip, so she was home alone. Alice had been grateful for this before, had needed it even. Now she wanted, more than anything, to be surrounded by the people she loved.

"Shit!" she cried, panicked. She didn't curse often but this definitely warranted it. "Shit, shit, shit!"

This was bad, this was very bad. She pulled out her cell phone and had half the number dialed when the phone rang in her hand. She briefly considered ignoring the call and continuing to dial but thought better of it; it would probably be worth listening to what he had to say before she did anything else. As much as Alice hated to admit it, he usually knew what he was talking about.

"Don't do it, Alice," Peter said before she even had a chance to say 'hello.'

Alice knew without having to ask what Peter didn't want her to do and in this case she really didn't want to listen to him. He'd better have a damn good reason.

"Why the hell not?!" she demanded.

"Honestly?" he asked, sounding just the slightest bit anxious.

Her eyes glazed over in a vision. She could see Peter on the other end of the line in a cozily furnished room, tapping the fingers of his right hand against his thigh in a rare nervous gesture, Charlotte resting her hand on his shoulder in a silent show of support and looking sick with worry of her own. He hadn't yet decided if he would tell Alice the truth and Alice hadn't decided if she would ask him for it. Part of her was too scared to but she sucked it up.

"Do you really think now is the time for lies?" she challenged, trying to sound austere but only partially succeeding. Mostly she sounded pitiful and desperate.

He sighed, "This is supposed to happen."

"Could you be any more vague?" Alice snapped.

"Probably," he said, trying and failing to sound like the insufferable smartass he generally was. His heart wasn't in it. She could see it in the slump of his shoulders and how he looked years older even though that was physically impossible. "Take a breath and try to look beyond the panic, Alice. If you can do that, you might be able to see that this could be a good thing."

Alice growled. "That would be a hell of a lot easier to do if you looked or sounded even remotely sure of yourself and your gift, but you don't; and even if you did, I still highly doubt I'd be able to see this as anything but a dire situation. Jasper's future has completely fucking disappeared, Peter!"

"I know!" Peter growled back, seething. "My gift has gone completely haywire just like yours has. For the first time since I was turned I don't know anything for certain so if you think I'm not just as worried as you are, your gift isn't the only thing that's blind. I've known him a hell of a lot fuckin' longer than you have, Alice, and he means more to me than he'll ever mean to you."

Alice felt like she'd been punched in the gut. Jasper was her best friend but Peter was right. He and Jasper had been through things together that she couldn't even fathom. They'd sacrificed and suffered a lot for each other, Jasper much more so, and Peter had gone back to save him from the punishment he'd suffered for letting him and Charlotte go and to save him from himself. As much as she would have liked to think she would have done the same, she was ashamed to admit to herself that, even though she loved Jasper, she wasn't sure she'd have been strong enough to.

"I swear to God if you're wrong, if something happens to him, I'll fucking kill you," she threatened lowly, savagely.

"If I'm wrong, I'll fuckin' kill myself," Peter promised, his tone so fierce and solemn it scared her a little. She'd never heard anyone sound so earnest in her life and she knew without a doubt that he meant it. "If anything changes and the darkness goes away let me know."

"You know I will," Alice said softly.

There was a soft click and she knew both through sight and hearing that he'd hung up. She was once again glad that the rest of the family wasn't home. No use worrying everyone else when she wasn't even sure there was anything to worry about.

_Going shopping. :)_

Alice shot off the text to Edward as she headed out to her canary yellow Porsche. She couldn't be here when the others got back. Even if she managed to hide how scared she was from Carlisle, Esme, Rosalie, and Emmett, she'd never be able to hide it from Edward. Even without the mating bond that connected them, he could still read her so well and if there wasn't that, there was his gift. She was pretty good at keeping him out of her head when she had a mind to but she, ironically, just didn't have the energy to expend on the effort it would take. She was too terrified for Jasper.

_Port Angeles or Seattle? :)_

_Seattle, of course. :)_

_Of course. Have fun, love. :)_

_Always do. ;)_

_Love you. Buy something sexy for me?_

_Love you too. Don't I always? _

_:)_

_Let you know when I get there._

_You'd better._

_Ooohhh, commanding Edward. Keep that up and I might have to buy two sexy somethings for you._

_Come back to me soon, love. I miss you._

_You know I can't stay away from you for long. I miss you too. Now leave me alone. How can I properly spend all your money if you don't quit bugging me? :P _

_Lol :)_

_;)_

It was so easy pretending like everything was okay as she texted back and forth with the man she loved more than anything, but it wasn't okay. She wished Edward was there to hold her.

Alice hopped into her Porsche, opened the garage, backed down the driveway at a speed that would have been dangerous for a human before swinging around the right way and punching the gas. She needed to get out of Forks as quickly as possible. She needed to keep her mind busy and there were only two ways she could successfully do that:immersing herself in Edward or immersing herself in fashion. Since the former wasn't an option for several reasons, the latter would have to do. Before she let herself, hopefully, get lost in the world of clothes, shoes, and accessories she sighed and thought of Jasper one last time.

"I'm trusting you Peter," she whispered dejectedly. "Please, _please_ don't be wrong."

oOo

**JPOV**

After deciding Louisville was the place I wanted to stop, I had to decide where I wanted to stop. I had been essentially locked away inside my Mustang with my own thoughts and emotions for the last four days and, while that was what I had needed, now I wanted to drown in the emotions of strangers; but not just any emotions. I wanted variety: the loving, the angry, the silly, the intense, the sad, the joyous, the crazy, the stupid, and everything in between. Really, there was only one place I could go to find all those things and that was a bar. For an empath, walking into a bar was like walking into a grocery store of emotions only everything had this candy-coating of drunkenness engulfing it. I needed the mellowness of a buzz or the outright dizziness of being shitfaced drunk right now, any break from the sharpness that my existence as a vampire wouldn't allow me to escape.

Seeing as it was nearly 10:30 on a Friday night it wouldn't be hard for me to find a bar that was busy. I decided on the fifth one I came across. It was called The Finish Line, in honor of the city's beloved Kentucky Derby, and it was in a seedier part of Louisville. It smelled strongly of cigarettes, alcohol, sweat, asphalt, humidity, and horses as well as other humans, which is why I didn't weed out that one smell that should have stood out from all the others the second I came within one hundred yards of the place. If I had, I would have turned around and gotten right the fuck back into my car and driven right the fuck back out of town.

_You have got to be fuckin' kidding me!_

The past five weeks of my life had been all kinds of shitty for a lot of reasons, most of which could be traced directly back to one insignificant human girl; and there, standing not twenty-five feet away with her back to me, was that very insignificant human girl. I knew it was her because now that I had picked up her scent I could separate it clearly from all the others as if it was the only one in the room.

_Goddamn it!_

Of all the places I could have ended up, why the hell did she have to be here too? I had stopped in this city because it had felt like the right place to do so. It was supposed to be the place that I found some sort of reprieve from the shit that had yet again found a foothold in my head and she was ruining it.

It took all the restraint I had to keep from sprinting forward to snap her skinny, little neck just like I'd promised myself I would do if I ever saw her again. I wanted it, I suspected the Major wanted it though he wasn't being vocal in his agreement, but we were in a room full of people. Granted, they were drunk people but that still counted. I really, _really _didn't want them to count. Maybe I could make an exception.

When she moved away from the table she'd been standing at and turned around, I made no move to hide myself from her. I wondered if she would remember who I was. We had only spent a handful of hours together and we hadn't spoken a word to each other during that time. Humans forgot things; maybe I was one of those things. Then our eyes met, the look we shared intense, filled with challenge. She remembered and she had to have been just as surprised to see me as I was to see her, but she didn't act as though she was. She was good at playing cool, that one. Was she completely unaffected by me? That thought pissed me off.

I was tempted to let her know just how much she fuckin' pissed me off, how much I hated her, but I didn't. I schooled my features, making sure I looked completely impassive. Maybe it would have been satisfying to let her know just how much she affected me but, though I didn't really know anything about this girl and had no right to assume anything about her, I wasn't willing to take the risk that showing her how angry she made me might have been more satisfying for her than it would have been for me.

There was emotion on her face but it was vague and I couldn't read what it was nor could I feel it, though I'd zeroed in on her. Just like when I'd tried to read her before, they were flickering in and out so fast I couldn't figure out exactly what they were. I don't know how long we stood there staring at each other because it felt like time had stopped during our silent standoff much the way it had at the breakfast table all those weeks ago; and just like all those weeks ago I got lost in those pretty brown eyes of hers.

_No!_ I growled internally, even more pissed, not even noticing the drunken argument that escalated into a full-on shouting match due to the anger I'd unintentionally projected. _Her eyes are not pretty! They're the color of shit._

This time I was not dazed when the spell broke. In fact, I required no recovery time at all because the whole thing pissed me the fuck off even more. I didn't like losing awareness of my surroundings. There weren't any other vampires in Louisville at the moment but that could change in the blink of an eye. I wasn't afraid of confrontation with others of my kind but I wasn't in the mood, though I had to admit the idea of being able to take out some of my frustration on someone who could handle what I could dish out was deeply appealing. Then again, there weren't many, my kind or not, who could handle what I could dish out. Still, even though I was no longer lost in her eyes, I didn't drop her gaze. There was no way in hell I would be the first to look away.

Unlike the last time, she was the one to cock an eyebrow at me as if to say, _What the fuck are you starin' at?_

I just smirked, found a table in the back right corner of the bar and ordered a glass of Johnnie Walker Black from a waitress that came across as pretty damn desperate.

I wondered if the girl would approach me and couldn't decide if I wanted her to or if I wished she would stay as far away from me as possible. All I knew was that I wasn't leaving. If I left now, it might seem like I was taking off because she was here and I wasn't a pussy who ran away from things, especially not insignificant human girls.

_Aren't you though? You did run away from Forks._

But that was different. Being overwhelmed by my gift and needing a break from shit wasn't the same as running away, and it's not like I wasn't going back.

"Paige! What the hell?" A bleached blond girl whom I immediately decided would be better known as Harpy Bitch, barked sharply, waving to get her attention.

My girl … _no, not_ your _girl_… didn't spare me anymore of her attention; instead turning on her heel and heading behind the bar. Apparently, she worked here. I suppose I should have figured that out since she was wearing one of those little half aprons.

_So her name is Paige,_ I noted with interest. Paige still didn't seem right to me but whatever. _No, you don't give a fuck what her name is, Jasper._

I spent the next two hours watching her, studying her, trying to figure her out while continually fielding a parade of drunken women attempting to hit on me. She was still just as observant as she had been when she'd been a guest in the Cullen home. She took note of every customer who entered the bar even when she was swamped making drinks or waiting tables. During lulls, when she wasn't cleaning or refreshing customers' drinks, she played with the chain of her silver necklace. Also, she still did her best never to leave her back unprotected, even though that was nearly impossible to do if she wanted to do her job well. I could tell from the tense set of her shoulders that it made her uneasy when she had to compromise her vigilance for job quality. I found myself compensating for this, much to my severe irritation. I tried to stop myself from doing it only to find myself right back at it the next time she had to compromise her attention to her surroundings in favor of the bar patrons. Why did she care so much about watching her back? Did she even know she was doing it? If she _was _doing it on purpose, and it genuinely seemed as though she was, what had made her so fuckin' paranoid?

_It doesn't matter. She's just a human. You don't care about her problems. You don't care about her. This is the bloodlust, that's all. You hate her remember?_

And I did. The overwhelming urge to snap her neck almost overcame me once again.

I had to admit she was a damn fine bartender, mixing drinks with showy spins and flicks of her wrist, always to the rave reviews of her customers. Some of it had to do with the fact that the majority of her customers were males who clearly thought she was beautiful, which made me grit my teeth in annoyance.

_She's not beautiful. She's _not.

The girl truly was skilled though, both behind the bar and as a waitress, navigating her way effortlessly in and out of the paths of drunken customers with trays laden with drinks and standard pub food. Every once in a while her eyes strayed to me, an unfathomable look in them. My only response was to smirk at her.

"Hey baby," a man, probably in his early to mid-twenties, with dark hair and green eyes, called to her. He came up behind her as she pushed a Long Island iced tea across the bar at another older, seriously skeezy guy who had been on the verge of fatally trying my patience with his leering and inappropriate comments. The younger guy slung his arm around her shoulders and kissed her on the cheek, giving skeezy dude a pointed look. Skeezy dude immediately got the hint and backed off.

A growl rumbled in my chest, a new wave of fury crashing over me.

_What the fuck? _The question was directed more at me than it was at the douchebag currently groping the human girl. I really fuckin' hated her.

She stiffened at the physical contact with the douchebag, which made me feel minutely better. Douchebag, however, was hurt and disappointed. I knew because I'd homed in on the two of them the second he'd put his hands on her, hoping I might be able to break through whatever was blocking me from being able to feel her. I was out of luck where she was concerned but I could feel Douchebag just fine. He liked her. Hell, he was in love with her and her rejection of him made me just a smidge gleeful. There was also the intense desire to rip his arms off for touching her when I knew she didn't like it.

_You do not care. She doesn't matter._

The girl eased her way out from underneath his arm as gracefully as she could. I couldn't figure out if she was being delicate about it because she didn't like being touched or if it was because she knew he had a thing for her and she didn't reciprocate. Then again, maybe she did reciprocate. It's not like I could tell since my gift was moot where she was concerned. God, she pissed me off.

The girl glanced at Douchebag, her expression stormy, "I didn't need your help, Christian."

_At least she's consistent._

Douchebag … Christian, though I liked Douchebag better … was again hurt and disappointed by her reaction. He'd obviously hoped that coming to her rescue like some douchey knight in shining armor might make her love him back.

_Pathetic fucker, _I smirked.

He held his hands up in surrender, "Fine. Next time I won't bother."

The girl sighed. "I'm sorry, Christian. That's my knee-jerk reaction. Thank you."

I could tell it cost her to say it and that she didn't really want to. It made me wonder why she did, even though I was sure she meant it. Still, it was highly disappointing to me. I didn't like people who said or did things to mollify others. It was hypocritical of me to judge her for it since I did it quite often for my family but at least I did it for the sake of people I cared about. At most, the girl had known Douchebag for four weeks. She couldn't have cared about him that much.

Douchebag grinned at her, "No worries. Why don't you take a break, honey? You're due for one."

As the girl nodded, giving him a small smile and turning to head wherever it was she was planning on spending her break, I felt a strong wave of jealousy and anger. It only took a moment for me to figure out that it was comin' from Harpy Bitch, who happened to be another waitress and bartender. Either she had a thing for the girl and was pissed at Douchebag because he had a better shot with her than she did, assuming the girl was straight anyway, or she had a thing for Douchebag and was pissed because he was clearly in love with the girl. I was guessing it was the latter.

_And the plot thickens …_**  
**

oOo

**A/N:** And Bella remains ever mysterious. So what did you think? Up next: Bella and Jasper speak to each other for the first time. :) Wonder what they'll have to say to each other?


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters. Also, I did not come up with Jasper as the God of War or of Peter 'just knowing shit'. Those ideas belongs to IdreamofEddy. I would like to thank the spectacular covenmama for providing me with the info that IdreamofEddy was responsible for those so I could give her credit.

**A/N: **Thank you to my awesome beta Laurie Whitlock, my pre-readers AlwaysJASPERsLOVE and Shadman, and my beloved sister Shelljayz who also happens to pre-read for me. There is another person I should have thanked long before now. If it weren't for shirleypositive72 and her amazing story The Lists, which you should read if you haven't, and the Facebook page she made for it, I never would have found Laurie, AlwaysJASPERsLOVE, and Shadman. It was through their encouragement, and my sister's, of course, that I found the guts to post Longing. I shared this with shirleypositive72 the other day, asking if it would be alright for me to put her in an A/N. She gave me permission and also wanted me to let you all know that my admission made her cry. Thank you again, dear! :)

Thank you to Ellie Wolf for the beautiful banner she made for Longing and to Laurie for surprising me with it. I will be setting up a link in my bio so you can view it. I have added a picture of Bella's necklace from chapter 7.

Okay, so 121 reviews, 112 favorites, and 208 followers! I have to say, I am absolutely blown away and so grateful to every single one of you. The response that I've gotten to this story is more than I ever could have hoped for and I am so very lucky to have all of you as readers. Thank you so much! :)

I do feel I need to warn you all though. This story isn't going to be a short one. Bella and Jasper are going to go through a lot and learn a lot about themselves and each other before the story ends. I hope you all will be up for the ride. :)

After this chapter I will do my best to make the author's notes shorter than the actual chapter.

oOo

_September 2080_

JPOV

I didn't know what possessed me to follow her. I should have kept my ass planted on that barstool but there I was, following the girl's scent to a secluded alcove in the alley behind the bar. I approached her as if it was something I'd done a hundred times before, settling my back against the brick wall across from her in a casual stance, my feet crossed at the ankles. She was standing similarly, an unlit cigarette dangling from her fingers. I saw no sign of a lighter and the scent of lighter fluid was absent, which meant she didn't have one on her. This added curiosity and amusement to my irritation.

"Most people actually smoke when they take smoke breaks," I said glibly.

"What can I say? I'm a rebel," the girl retorted, unaffected, "and you are a stalker."

I liked her voice. I'd liked it the moment I'd first heard her speak …

_"Sweet Jesus!" _she'd exclaimed. I remembered that clear as day. Well, I remembered everything clear as day, but that, in particular, stood out.

Her voice was low and throaty. It sounded like sex.

"You're bein' awfully presumptuous, sugar," I drawled.

"And what? You just happened to walk into _my _bar on one of the nights I just happen to work?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes," I responded sarcastically, "I make a habit of searchin' out and followin' mediocre-lookin' girls cross country just so I can stand in humid alleys watchin' while they _don't_smoke."

So maybe she wasn't awful looking. Her body, I had to admit, was hot as fuck. She'd put on at least fifteen pounds in the five weeks since I'd last seen her and I'd been right about the extra weight. Now instead of bony, she was healthy, slender but still all long legs and lean muscles. She did indeed now possess heavenly curves, fantastic breasts, and a delicious ass as showcased by a pair of short denim shorts. Watching that ass all night had been the one good thing that had come out of this whole shitty situation.

"Yeah well, I don't believe in coincidences," she said.

"I don't give a fuck what you believe," I told her seriously, and I didn't.

I wasn't lying about that, but there was one thing I could no longer deny. I wanted her. I'd been telling myself all night, for the last five weeks, that I didn't, that all the times I'd made myself come with the image of her in my head were flukes and they no doubt were; but she was here, right now, standing in front of me and I wanted her. I wanted her and I hated her for it. Now I was going to make her suffer for what she'd put me through these past weeks. I was going to make her want me just as much as I wanted her. I wouldn't be able to use my gift to do it since I had no idea if it would work on her, but I didn't need my gift for this. I was more than capable of driving her insane with lust without it. By the time I was done with her she'd be begging me to fuck her. Hell, maybe I would. Perhaps if I got it out of my system, I could get her out of my head once and for all and find some peace … as far as she was concerned, at least.

Plan solidified, I stalked forward slowly, a deadly smirk on my face, making sure to convey with every part of me that she was being hunted and that she knew it. Her eyes widened, her heart speeding up the slightest bit, the scent of her blood sweetening with adrenaline. It was the first time she'd reacted the way a human should in the presence of a vampire, but even then it wasn't nearly to the degree it should have been.

The closer I got, the more I paid attention to every little detail about her. I wanted to see how she reacted to me but not for the purpose of my little game; that fun would come later. I knew she didn't like being touched. I also knew there was a distinct possibility that the reason she didn't like being touched was because someone had forced themselves on her, and that wasn't something I was willing to prey on to make this girl suffer. Oh, I wanted her to suffer, of that there was no doubt, but what I had planned was a sweet sort of torture that ended in a frustrated madness, not a broken body and soul. I was a lot of things, but I was no rapist.

The girl was wary of me, that much was clear, and the nearer my proximity the faster her heart raced. She did stiffen but it wasn't in the same way she had when Douchebag had touched her or even when Esme had or when Alice had tried to. Without the use of my gift I couldn't really tell you what the difference was, just that there was one. This difference wasn't exactly an invitation but it wasn't a refusal either, so I stopped just inches away from her and studied her face. In all the time I'd known her, which hadn't been long, she'd been hard for me to read, and that was rare. As an empath, I got to feel emotions and match them with people's facial expressions. Twenty-one and a half decades of daily exposure to this made it pretty damn easy for me to figure out what people were feeling and sometimes even what they were thinking just by looking at them, but not her. In that moment though, I knew. I saw fear on her face but something; instinct maybe, told me it wasn't fear for her life. Her eyes were dark and stormy as they had been during her mini-confrontation with Douchebag but there was a different tenor to them now—still angry but there was passion there too.

I continued to press forward, forcing her back against the wall. Eventually, there was no more room for her to back up but I didn't stop this time until my body was practically flush against hers. She was tense but still she made no move to get out from under me, and she felt so damn amazing pressed up against me I wanted to cry with relief.

"And for the record," I purred into her ear, running my nose from the skin behind her ear and down her neck until I reached her pulse point, my tongue darting out to taste the sweet skin there, my teeth nipping just hard enough for her to feel it but not enough for her to be in any danger from my venom, my cool lips soothing where they'd grazed when all was said and done, "if I _was _stalkin' you, you wouldn't know it until I moved in for the kill."

My eyes rolled back in my head, _She tastes so fuckin' good._

I'd placed my hands at the sides of her breasts as I'd made my proclamation, waiting for her reaction, good or bad. She didn't flinch or tense at my touch; it was the opposite actually - tension left her body, so I raked my fingers down until they lightly gripped her hips. Heat shot through my fingertips, electricity shooting through every cell of my body. I didn't know what the fuck that was but I'd never felt anything like it and it set me on fire. She gasped at my ministrations and a shiver ripped through her, her back arching so that her breasts pressed against my chest. I suppressed a groan, suddenly achingly hard, and moved my hips just far enough away from her so that she couldn't tell how much this whole thing was affecting me. The whole point of this exercise was to make her want me, not to show how much I wanted her, and at the sudden heady scent of arousal radiating from her I was succeeding gloriously. I couldn't decide what smelled better: her blood or the scent of her desire, especially when I knew it was me that had made her wet. It was incredibly difficult to resist the impulse to drop to my knees, rip her shorts and panties off, and taste her but I managed it … barely. God, I wanted to feel her. I wanted to feel everything ... her skin, her tight, wet heat, her emotions. I wanted to feel how much she wanted me. Why couldn't I just _feel _it?

When I pulled back, I met her gaze steadily. Her eyes were heavy-lidded with desire but as always there was a defiance and challenge in them. I couldn't say I expected anything less. This wouldn't have been nearly as much fun if those things were absent. Then she squirmed against me, her hard nipples scraping against my chest and sending another flash of heat and electricity through me. My dick twitched and I lost my train of thought.

"Cocky son of bitch, aren't you?" she asked, her voice disappointingly even despite bein' husky with lust.

"No," I said.

I was telling the God's honest truth. It was true of most vampires, but especially of me. Maybe I should have lied to her, I knew I should have, but for some reason I couldn't. I leaned in a little closer, my lips only a millimeter or so from hers. I wanted to look down at them, to close the distance but I didn't. I continued to hold her gaze instead. She must have seen the truth of my simple statement in my eyes but my honesty didn't alarm her. Surprisingly, it turned her on. Her breathing picked up and another stronger wave of arousal assaulted my nose. I couldn't suppress the low growl that rumbled in my chest or stop my hips from bucking into hers when I smelled it but she hardly minded if the soft moan that escaped her lips was any indication.

_Fuck, this girl is goin' to kill me!_

I was sure I was projecting enough lust to drive everyone within a half-mile radius insane but I didn't give a shit. Even so, she didn't seem to be affected.

The girl moved to close the distance between our lips but I dodged her at the last second. I'd wanted to kiss her only moments before but I wouldn't because kissing wasn't something I did. It was intimate. It promised things I couldn't give, things I refused to promise any of the women I'd been with. I hadn't kissed a woman since Maria, not even Alice, and that's the way it would stay. The fact that I even wanted to kiss this girl shocked the hell out of me. This had started out as a way to torture her, to make her want me and then leave her hanging the way I had been for five goddamn weeks, but now I didn't know what I was doing. Now I didn't know if I'd be able to stop myself from finishing what I'd started. If I broke my rule, if I kissed her, everything would change; I couldn't kiss her, so I moved my lips to her neck, licking, sucking, and nipping down the hollow of her throat. I felt her whimper vibrate through her skin and I moved my hands to the small of her back, tugging her even harder against me and feeling how the moist Kentucky heat had plastered the material of her t-shirt to her torso. I slipped the fingers of one hand underneath the hem of her shirt, stroking her bare skin with my fingertips. She didn't jerk away from me. At that point, I hadn't really expected her to, but there was still a small part of me that was afraid she would. The electricity and heat that coursed through me at the naked contact between us, small as it might have been, was ten times more intense than it had been through her clothing, and she moaned again. Could she feel it too?

"Fuck," I groaned against the skin of her neck, my hips bucking into hers again, my erection hitting that sacred little bundle of nerves between her legs and causing her to gasp. One tug of a zipper, the shifting of some fabric, a quick thrust and I'd be inside her.

_Oh God, I want to be inside her. I need to be inside her._

Her hands flew to my shoulders, fingers gripping hard. If I'd been human, her fingernails would have been digging into my skin hard enough to draw blood. Aside from trying to kiss me, this was the first proactive move she'd made since I'd pinned her to the wall. It made me think that the reason she didn't like being touched had nothing at all to do with sex. Maybe she'd never been touched in a sexual way period and just had no idea what to do. She was only sixteen, no more than seventeen, after all. In this day and age, that was a bit old for sustained purity but stranger things had been known to happen. The thought that she might be untouched had me fighting mightily the urge to claim her.

I pulled back from her, needing there to be distance between my teeth and her skin. My head was spinning with the desire to bite her, my teeth aching to be buried in her butter-soft skin, mouth pooling with venom at the very thought of it. I still hadn't decided where I was taking this but there was no way in hell I was going to risk ending it so quickly.

The girl looked confused when I pulled away from her at first but then she looked angry, downright fuckin' enraged.

_My God, she's beautiful when she's pissed._

To avert disaster, I pushed her away from me and back flush against the wall. Her eyes flashed dangerously but I just smirked at her. That only made them flash brighter but I effectively put an end to whatever she might have done to retaliate by bringing my hand around to cup her tight, luscious little ass and squeezed. Then I slid it down the back of her leg, hooking it behind her knee and lifting it to hitch around my hip. With a heated gaze, my unnecessary breathing picking up with hers, I dragged my fingers from the inside of her knee to her inner thigh, pausing just long enough to make her bite her lip and shift her hips in frustration. Using my other hand to hold her in place, I stroked the skin so near to where she needed me the most, teasing. I could feel her moist heat, so close to my hand, smell the strength of her arousal. It elicited another low growl from me and I couldn't hold back anymore. Pushing the fabric of her shorts and panties aside, I plunged my index finger inside her and pressed my thumb to her clit.

She froze, her eyes widening in the shock and fear of a girl who had never been touched like this before. It only lasted for a moment before those pretty brown eyes regained their lust-ridden haze, her head falling back against the brick wall, a murmured "fuck" spilling from her lips as she gave in to how I was making her feel. It was the sexiest fuckin' thing I'd ever seen or heard in my life but I couldn't focus on that now. I had to focus on what I now knew for certain. This girl was innocent. She'd never known pleasure at anyone else's hand, maybe not even her own. For all I knew, she'd never even been kissed properly, and I couldn't do it. I couldn't go through with my plan. What I had intended to do to her, to take from her, whether she wanted me to or not, wasn't mine to take no matter how much I wanted to, and she was too naïve to try and stop me. I hated her.

Then her hips bucked, my hold on them having loosened, and caused the hand that was touching her so intimately to flex. My finger curled forward, unintentionally finding her g-spot, my thumb pressing even harder into her clit and she cried out unintelligibly. All rational thought vanished and my instincts took over. I needed to make her shudder and moan, quiver and quake, at my hand. That was the only thought left in my head, the only thing that mattered to me.

Slowly, I started to move my finger, in and out, in and out, always curling it forward to hit that spot that drove her crazy, my thumb stroking her clit in lazy circles. She was so wet and hot and tight it made me ache. The ache in my groin was obvious; the one I couldn't explain was the ache in my chest.

The girl didn't like slow. She was writhing against me, moaning in pleasure, and cursing me for torturing her but I didn't allow any of those things to alter the speed of my sexy assault on her. Instinctively she swung her other leg up around my hip to try to get me to go faster, so I tucked my free arm under the backs of her thighs and pressed her harder against the wall. This changed the angle of penetration and forced my hand even deeper inside of her.

"Oh," she gasped in surprise and pleasure, sucking that full bottom lip between her teeth again and biting down. I wanted that lip between _my _teeth. Her breathing was damn near frantic now and mine was nearly as bad.

I hid my face in her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair as I added another finger to her tight heat, finally picking up my pace and alternating between fast and slow swipes at her swollen nub. She continued writhing, moaning, and cursing, though for different reasons this time, and I was just about out of my mind with lust and something else I couldn't name. The warmth of her was seeping into my skin, not the electricity or the fire or the sparks that flew wherever we touched, but her human warmth. It heated me slowly, in a different way, until I almost felt human too.

Stupid things kept nearly slipping out of my mouth, like "you're beautiful" or "you're perfect," but I always caught myself. "I want you so fuckin' badly," I breathed instead, pressing soft kisses across her collarbone.

I stroked her faster, harder, but gentle all at the same time, her wetness dripping down my hand. Soon her inner muscles started to quiver, and I knew she was close. I was so delirious with this knowledge, it surprised me when her slim fingers gripped my chin and guided my face until my eyes met hers, the look in them serious and passionate.

"Take what you want," she said quietly, her tone firm but shy. As she said it, she reached between us and timidly ran her hand over my jean-covered erection.

I froze, sucking in a staccato breath. Her warm little fingers felt so damn _good _but not even they could erase the effect her words had had on me; they'd brought me back to my senses, reminded me why I'd wanted to put a stop to all this. She was a virgin.

How could I have ever thought any of this was a good idea, that my plan was solid and wouldn't come back to bite me in the ass? Yes, I'd been fuckin' crazy these past weeks trying to get a handle on my shit but I wasn't this guy! I wasn't Maria's attack dog anymore. I wasn't the monster who purposely set out to hurt people. I didn't want to be. I_wouldn't _be.

_Fuck!_

"No," I growled, furious. How could she even say that to me? What the hell was she thinking? Some part of her had to know I was dangerous. What the fuck was wrong with her?

I was a bastard for stopping right as she was about to come but that's how it had to be, and it took all the will power I had to remove my hand from her perfect pussy. A little part of me, a vindictive part, was the tiniest bit satisfied - I'm not a monster but I'm not perfect either and my feelings for the girl hadn't changed. I still hated her and part of me felt that she deserved it for being so goddamn reckless.

I pried her legs off my hips, unglued myself from her torso and stepped back so I was half a foot away from her. Now that we weren't touching, I felt an odd sense of loss that I didn't understand.

The girl could tell I really meant to end whatever had been going on between us this time and she wasn't having it. In a move that was surprisingly quick and strong for a human, especially one as slight as she was, she pushed against me, hooking her foot behind my ankle and jerking, causing my body to spin. She moved smoothly with me, like we were dancing, and I just let what was happening happen. I was too surprised to do anything else. The next thing I knew, she had _me _pinned against the wall, her forearm pressed against my throat. This should have infuriated me but all it did was make me want her more.

"You think you can play games with me, Texas?" she spat, livid. Her desire still just as clear in her eyes as her fury was. It was sexy as hell.

_Fuck me!_ I groaned. My fingers were aching to pull her against me but I wouldn't. My eyes were pleading as I looked at her. _I'm tryin' to do the right thing here. Just let me do the right damn thing!_

"I'm not playin' games with you," I protested, sounding completely plausible. No matter how plausible it sounded though, we both knew it was a bold-faced lie and a sudden rush of shame overtook me. I'd never wanted to be the kind of man who played games. I'd never wanted a lot of things and I'd promised myself that I'd never let those things happen to me again and also that I'd never let myself slip back into being a certain kind of man. I was breaking those promises.

"You pin me to a fucking wall, put your hands on me, then pull back just when things are getting good and now you're trying to tell me you're _not _playing games?" she hissed in disbelief, pressing her forearm into my throat hard enough to restrict my airway. It would have been uncomfortable if I actually needed air; at any rate, I had to pretend it was.

With another smooth motion, I flipped us so that she was pinned beneath me again, only this time I had her wrists stretched above her head in the strong grip of my left hand. It made her back arch so that her nipples were again pressed into my stone chest. I used my right hand to cup her breast, rolling one of those nipples between my thumb and forefinger until it pebbled under my ministrations. She sucked in a sharp breath.

I was playing a dangerous game. If I kept touching her, we would end up right back where we'd just been and I couldn't let that happen. If I felt her clench around my hand, heard her cry out for me in ecstasy, watched her face as she came, I _would _take her right there against this brick wall; and if I took her there was no guarantee I would be able to stop myself from sinking my teeth into her neck and draining her. She deserved better than that for her first time, better than me, and though I'd entertained the idea of killing her I'd never been serious about it. No matter how much I disliked her, she didn't deserve to die and I didn't want any more blood on my hands; but having her pressed up against me the way she was was so fuckin' intoxicating that I just couldn't seem to help myself. It had been so long since I'd felt this out of control.

I leaned in close to her, rolling her nipple again, our noses nearly touching, "Is this what you want, sugar?"

She glared at me, "I. Am. Not. Your. Sugar."

I gave her a smirk before I licked her neck, long and slow, my tongue brushing over the silver chain of the necklace she was always playing with. She whimpered and the fresh scent of her latest gush of arousal hit my nose. "You sure taste like it, _sugar_."

_Walk away, Jasper. Let the girl go and walk away. You're tryin' to do the right thing remember?_ I was trying desperately to regain control, angry with myself for losing it in the first place. _But you don't care,_ I reminded myself and then mentally shook my head. _You don't have to care to do the right thing. It's called a moral code, dipshit._

Maybe during the Southern Wars when I'd literally been out of my mind, I'd been a sadistic jackass but when I was sane I was an honorable man. I didn't want to sully that and couldn't believe I'd been willing to compromise one of the only things I could pride myself on just to get back at this human. I not only hated her, I hated myself.

"Kiss me," the girl commanded, interrupting my internal musings.

Her voice was so authoritative I nearly gave in, the soldier in me reacting instinctively to that tone but I was Jasper fuckin' Whitlock, the Major, the motherfuckin' God of War. I didn't cave to the orders of little girls. _I_ gave the orders. _I _was the one in charge. My eyes hardened and I scowled at her.

"Kiss me," the girl demanded again.

Her eyes were fiery with want. She really, truly wanted me. That had been the whole point of this but I hadn't really grasped what that would mean. I still didn't and now I was confused because she was looking at me … really looking at me, and the way she was looking at me threw me for a loop because it felt like she saw _me_, like she knew me and understood me in ways that no one ever had. That meant that if she wanted me, she wanted _me_, Jasper - stripped, raw, and aching. I'd been with a lot of women and none of them had ever looked at me the way she was looking at me right now. It struck me dumb for a second.

"Kiss me," she said again, her tone even instead of hard and demanding.

_I want to. God, I want to. _I had never wanted to kiss a woman so badly in my life; I'd never wanted to kiss a woman at all. Those words were on the tip of my tongue. Instead, I said, "No."

"Kiss me," she repeated, her eyes fierce.

Why was she so fuckin' frustrating? Why wouldn't she just give up? Why did she have to be so damn stubborn? I slammed her back into the wall, not hard enough to hurt her, but hard enough to get my point across. "No."

My body betrayed me, however, inching closer to hers, my lips hovering millimeters from her ripe pink ones. My eyes kept shooting back and forth from her brown ones to her lips, my tongue darting out to lick mine in anticipation but I wouldn't. I wouldn't give her what she wanted.

"_Kiss _me," the girl said. Her voice and eyes were soft this time and something in me broke.

_I can't fight you anymore. I don't want to_, and that was okay. I knew it would be because this wasn't about making her miserable anymore. It was about need but not the need to prove a point or the need to fuck her. I just needed _her_, which was ridiculous because I didn't _need _anyone. I didn't know what it meant or what to do with it, and I was sure I would hate myself and her for it later; but that was later. This was now.

I released her wrists from my grip and brought that hand down to the small of her back. I brushed my thumb of my other hand across her cheekbone before burying my fingers in her shiny brown hair like I'd been wanting to for so long. It was even softer and more silky than I'd imagined it would be. She shook her hands a couple times to get the feeling back in them, and then dragged them up my chest and around my neck, her fingers playing with the curls at the base of it. It felt good, so fuckin' good. I couldn't remember anything in my life ever feeling better. Her eyes fluttered shut, her lips parting ever so slightly.

_My God, she's beautiful._

oOo

**A/N:** *blushes, covers face with hands, peeks out through fingers* So ... I've never written anything even vaguely lemony before. I guess you'll have to tell me how I did.

I guess Bella is not so unaffected by Jasper after all. ;)

What do you think about this turn of events? Any guesses about what will happen next? I'd love to hear! :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters. Also, I did not come up with Jasper as the God of War or of Peter 'just knowing shit'. Those ideas belongs to IdreamofEddy. I would like to thank the spectacular covenmama for providing me with the info that IdreamofEddy was responsible for those so I could give her credit.

**A/N: **Thank you to my awesome beta Laurie Whitlock, my pre-readers AlwaysJASPERsLOVE and Shadman, and my beloved sister Shelljayz who also happens to pre-read for me. Thank you also to shirleypositive72. Read her story The Lists! It's awesome! Thank you to Ellie Wolf for the beautiful banner she made for Longing.

Once again, everyone who has read, followed, favorited, and reviewed this story - WOW! I don't know what else to say besides thank you and you are awesome. I hope that Longing continues to deserve the response you are giving it. You all amaze me! :D

In chapter 8, Jasper plays the guitar and in most all of the stories I've read, guitarists name their guitars. I had every intention of naming his but I couldn't think of anything, so I left it blank. However, I went back and added the name "Charlotte Rose" as Jasper's guitar's name. While you may think I named his guitar after his sisters, and that would be a reasonable guess, I actually named the guitar after my adorable, beautiful, brilliant niece Charlotte Rose. :)

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! I am so happy that my sister is here to celebrate it with me and that I'll get to see BD 2 with her as well! Now if only final papers weren't such a bitch all would be right in my world. :)

Enjoy!

oOo

_September 2080_

JPOV

My eyes closed of their own accord, just as hers had, and my lips began their slow descent toward hers. I was so fuckin' ready to taste her …

Then two idiots, two "can't tell my ass from my face" drunken idiots, stumbled down the alley and stopped not far from us. One of the idiots either couldn't hold his liquor or didn't understand the concept of "enough is enough" since not five seconds after they arrived, he promptly vomited. The dude didn't vomit on us but we were in the splatter radius and both our shoes suffered because of it. I was in a pair of old boots so I didn't care and the girl's shoes were covered in sticky alcohol, juice and food from her shift at the bar so I didn't think she did either, but the presence of the two asshats and especially the sound and smell of the retching were like a bucket of ice water being dumped over us. I couldn't decide if I wanted to kill them or send them season tickets to the sports team of their choice.

The girl and I jumped apart like we'd been burned. Maybe pulling away from her hadn't been the right thing to do but I'd done it anyway and she seemed just as eager to put some distance between us as I was. I couldn't quite bring myself to leave, though that's what I should have done; instead, I took up the place I'd initially inhabited against the alcove wall across from her. She didn't leave either but that didn't surprise me. She didn't shy away from challenges and what we'd been doing before Tweedle Drunk and Tweedle Drunker had interrupted us had been exactly that, so she wouldn't have.

We were both silent as one drunk asshole tried to take care of the other equally drunk, still vomiting asshole, pretending like we hadn't just molested each other.

It took several minutes for our crashers to get their acts together enough to leave and I was actually grateful for this. It gave me time to get myself under control, while still debating whether or not to hunt them down later. I managed to contain the urge to attack her again, but my cock refused to get the message that he wasn't gonna get any. It took a fair amount of adjustment to conceal the situation, which wasn't something I could really hide completely, but it's not like I could wave a magic wand and make my dick a more manageable size whenever it was convenient. Besides, what guy would actually want that?

When they finally did leave, the girl made no move to pick up where we'd left off.

_That's a good thing, Jasper. It's good, _my inner voice said. My inner voice was a douche.

We started watching each other again and, yet again, I couldn't read her … not her face or her emotions and it made me want to scream. Everything about this girl made me want to scream.

"So," she said, breaking the silence several minutes later, "stalked many girls in your time, Texas?"

How was I supposed to answer that question? I still felt a compulsive need to be honest with her but I couldn't tell her the truth, and I still hated her; so I avoided it.

"You've called me that twice now. Why?" I asked curiously. There were sixteen states that made up the South, and she'd chosen the right one after exchanging only a handful of words with me.

"Smooth deflection," she noted. Then she shrugged noncommittally, "I know accents."

I furrowed my brows but decided not to think too much on it. There were other, more pressing, things I wanted to know. "What are you doin' here?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "_I _live here. What are you doing here?"

I threw one of her noncommittal shrugs back at her, "Road trip."

"By yourself?" she queried. I just nodded in response.

"Doc and Mrs. Stepford let you take a road trip across the country by yourself?" she said the words slowly, as if they were foreign on her tongue. Then she lifted her eyebrows in assent. "I can see it. They are pretty liberal aren't they, what with them letting PMS Barbie and 'Roid Rage, and Tinkerbell and Choke play house together?"

I burst out laughing. Peter had some funny nicknames for the family but the human's were even more hilarious and I hadn't laughed in so long. It felt good.

"Liberal is one word for it," I agreed. I couldn't very well explain that Emmett and Rosalie, and Edward and Alice were not only decades old vampires, but mated, married couples who had every right to show their love and affection for each other openly even if they looked like teenagers. She was a human and I could never make her understand that. "You pick this place because the weather is so startlingly opposite of Forks'?" I asked. I had to find something to talk about if I wasn't gonna stick my tongue down her throat and the weather was as good a subject as any.

"Nope," she said, smiling slyly at me.

I found myself smiling back, "Then why?"

The girl huffed a little, "You know nothing about girls do you?"

"I know plenty sugar," I smirked, my implication obvious.

Before I'd made mention of it, for those few minutes it was like nothing had happened between us at all. We were just two acquaintances in an alley chatting, and she didn't let my remark change that even though the slight acceleration of her heartbeat told me what I'd left unsaid hadn't gone over her head. I wasn't sure how I felt about it.

"I came here because of the horses, dumbass," she explained matter-of-factly, rollin her eyes.

"Right," I said, my tone sarcastic. I'd almost forgotten how much some human girls liked horses. I'd liked horses as a human, loved them in fact, and that hadn't changed now that I was a vampire but being a vampire had closed any equine doors for me more than two centuries ago.

"Right," she mimicked me perfectly. It was a little eerie. She knelt down and picked up the cigarette she'd dropped at some point during our interlude, giving me a damn nice view of her cleavage.

_Why are you torturin' me?_ I groaned internally. _I hate you._

She twirled the cigarette between her fingers dexterously but made no move to light it, which she couldn't do with a lighter she didn't have, or bring it to her lips.

"If you aren't goin' to smoke that why do you have it?" I asked, wanting to satisfy my curiosity.

"It fits the bartender image, I guess," the girl said with a shrug.

"How'd you swing that anyway?" I drawled, folding my arms behind my head and looking at her attentively because I truly wanted to know.

"Swing what?" the girl asked warily, clearly hoping that by playing dumb I might drop the subject. The problem with that was I knew she was anything but dumb.

"Gettin' a job at a bar," I retorted, my voice conveying I absolutely was not going to let the topic go until she'd given me an answer.

Yet another eye roll from the human. "I turned in an application, had an interview, filled out the paperwork but you wouldn't know that, would you? Have you ever had a job in your life?"

Her assumption should have pissed me off but it didn't because I saw the perfect opportunity to inflame her already present irritation. Grinning lazily at her, I said, "Whether or not I've had a job is irrelevant. We're talkin' 'bout how you managed to snag a job mixin' drinks at a bar when you're not even old enough to legally smoke, let alone consume alcohol. I mean, you're what, sixteen?"

The girl's eyes narrowed and she clenched her hands into fists at her sides. Half of me prayed that she didn't dig her fingernails into her skin hard enough to draw blood; the other half prayed that she did so I could lick her palms clean. Deciding the latter would only lead to bad, bad things, I held my hands up in surrender. I had to defuse the bomb before it blew.

"Now, now sugar," I placated, purposely thickening my accent, "I'm not tryin' to offend," and I wasn't. As much as I'd hated Emmett deciding to call her Storm for the short time she'd been a guest in the Cullen home, this girl really was pretty badass. I didn't know what her story was but I did know that she was a survivor. Sometimes you had to play by a different set of rules to survive, rules you may not have been too fond of, but you played by them anyway. That was something I respected because it was something I'd had to do for a very long time and I was still alive because of it. It impressed me and I told her so.

"I'll be seventeen in three weeks I'll have you know," she said indignantly, as if she hadn't heard what I'd just said. "Wait? What?" Apparently, my placation had just now sunk in. She eyed me doubtfully, "Why would you be impressed?"

I gave her a lopsided grin, "A guy can't go tellin' all his secrets now can he? It takes his mystery away; makes him less attractive or some shit like that."

The girl huffed and shook her head, "I don't think that's possible."

I chose not to respond to her comment even though it made me want to fly across the alley and pin her to the wall again. The look on her face and the tone of her voice made me think she hadn't meant to say it out loud. None of the women I'd been with, or anyone else really, found me anything but scary looking. They were attracted to me and wanted to be with me because my scars were an indication of how powerful I was. Power was an aphrodisiac of sorts for vampires even if my scars should have sent women runnin' as fast as they could in the opposite direction; but she couldn't see them. I wondered if she would still find me attractive if she could. The idea that it might change her opinion about that made my chest hurt.

If she'd planned on saying anything else, she didn't get the chance to because Harpy Bitch rounded the corner of our little alcove, glaring at my human as she planted her hands on her hips. I may as well not have existed, but I was more than fine with that.

My _human? Where the hell did that come from?_

"Paige, what the fuck?!" She screeched, reminding me very much of Rosalie in that moment. "You've been out here for like forty-five minutes, which means your break ended fifteen minutes ago, we're busy as hell, and people are fuckin' insane tonight! We've had to kick a shit ton of customers out for foolin' around or outright fuckin' in the bathrooms, dark corners, or on the damn dance floor," she griped in disgust.

I guess I really had projected pretty strongly.

"Quit takin' advantage of Christian and pawnin' your work off on me and Ashley. Last call is in an hour so get your ass back in that bar and pull your weight for once," Harpy Bitch concluded snidely, with a glare that could have stopped a raging inferno in its tracks.

Harpy Bitch was the one I wanted to pin to the wall this time, only face first and with enough force to bust that fake nose of hers. Her emotions were hateful and full of jealousy and envy. They made me uneasy but mostly I was offended. My human was a damn fine bartender and waitress, far superior to Harpy Bitch, opening four tabs for every one of the bleached blonde's. She got three times the work her fellow employee got done in the same amount of time both behind the bar and on the floor, smoothing out drunken conflicts like a pro, cleaning up spilled beer without complaint and she didn't take any lip from customers, or tolerate any other unnecessary body parts for that matter. She'd even helped the short order cook a couple times. Accusing her of not pulling her own weight was like calling a four hundred pound woman anorexic.

"You are such a harpy bitch, Sharon," the girl snapped, apparently at her wit's end with the woman.

_Did she read my damn mind?_ I wondered at hearing our apparently shared nickname for her wench of a coworker.

"It's not my fucking fault Christian doesn't love you, so quit being such a monstrous pain in my ass!"

Harpy Bitch's hate, jealousy, and envy increased exponentially, rage joining 'em. They were intense and all-consuming and, without thinking, I enveloped her in a cloud of calm, watching in smug satisfaction as the rigidness in her posture eased and most, but not all, of the fire drained out of her. Just like the situation with Rosalie I couldn't be too obvious in the way I used my gift, even if humans were generally oblivious to my influence.

"Whatever," Harpy Bitch bit out, turning on her heel and marching out of the alcove. She moved into the alley and made her way toward the bar, the clacking of her heels fading the further she got from us.

My human frowned, "That was weird."

_Yes, that_ was _weird_. The girl was more than capable of handing Harpy Bitch her ass in a verbal sparring match and from the way she'd man-handled me earlier, I had no doubt she could pull off an impressive chick fight if it came down to that. She hadn't needed my help so why the hell had I interfered?

"What was?" I asked innocently, hoping that hearing her speak would help clear my head enough to either figure out what I'd been thinking or come up with something to throw her off if this stubborn, stubborn girl was headed where I thought she was.

"Sharon," she said, still frowning. "She should have screamed at me for what I just said to her. She should _still_ be screaming at me for it."

"Maybe you just put her in her place," I reasoned, hoping she would buy it. This girl was way too observant for her own good.

"Nah," the girl said and then backtracked. "Well yeah, I did but she never would have admitted to it. She's a denier. She would have gone ballistic on me for even suggesting that she _likes_ Christian let alone loves him, but she didn't say anything. That's just not normal."

"Shouldn't it be a good thing that she didn't resort to hair pullin' and bitch slappin'?" I asked humorously, cocking a brow at her.

_Just let it the fuck go,_ I silently pleaded. I was tempted to try to make her - a healthy dose of confusion and some hypnotism would do the trick; but, once again, I had no idea if my gift even worked on her and there was a good chance all I would succeed in doing would be to raise her suspicion more. I couldn't risk it.

She looked thoughtful, distracted, not seeing the humor in my comment. "Something isn't right," she said concernedly. "I've got to get back in there. She drinks on the job more than she should and flirts even more than that. Someone might have slipped her something."

"Why is that your problem?" I asked, my tone full of indifference and none of the relief I felt at the fact that I'd dodged a bullet.

The girl glared at me, "Someone has got to watch her back."

"I mean," I clarified, "why don't you tell Doucheb-" I paused, lamely clearing my throat but not bothering to look sorry for what I'd nicknamed her boss, "Christian about it and let him deal with her? He is her boss. Isn't shit like that his job?"

She shrugged, "It is, but I'm not going to."

"Why?"

"Why, why, why? What are you, five? I swear if you ask 'are we there yet?' next, I'll punch you," she retorted, but I didn't think she was nearly as exasperated with me as she appeared to be.

"You still haven't answered my question," I pointed out, and I really wanted to know her answer. It was another puzzle piece in the great mystery that was this human and the more time I spent with her, the more I felt compelled to solve it.

"Because," she sighed, "if I tell Christian, he'll do it."

"Which is the point, sugar," I said.

"You really don't know anything about women," she said, shaking her head.

"I already told you," I responded, annoyed, "I know plenty."

The girl gave me a dubious look, "There is a difference between knowing how to physically please a woman and knowing how to love one. You obviously don't have the first clue how to do the latter."

I advanced on her again, forcing her back against the wall. This time though, my intentions had nothing to do with sex and I left a good half foot of space between us, placing my arms on either side of her head so that she was fenced in. I was so fuckin' angry I knew my eyes had gone completely black, and in that moment I really could have killed her.

"You don't know anything about me," I muttered lowly, my tone grave and oozing with danger.

The girl swallowed hard, her heart rate sped up, adrenaline mixed with the blood rushin' through her veins, and her pupils dilated. She was afraid of me.

_About fuckin' time!_

"You shouldn't make assumptions about things you don't understand," I continued in the same menacing voice.

The girl's heart rate didn't slow, the adrenaline in her blood didn't dissipate, and her pupils didn't shrink - she was still afraid of me, but she didn't let her fear hold her back; she let her anger spring forward and override it. Her gaze turned steely, she placed her palms against my chest and shoved. I let myself be pushed back a few inches for the sake of appearances even though that pissed me off even more, but came right back at her. She was back against that wall in two seconds.

"I swear if the next sentence out of your mouth includes the words 'assume,' 'ass,' and 'me,' not even your doctor daddy will be able to restore your balls to their fully functioning glory," the girl seethed. I was guessing she was more upset that she hadn't managed to push me off her than anything else and her chest was rising and falling rapidly with her shallow breathing. It was very hard for me to keep my focus on her face.

"So you admit my balls are glorious, hmm?" I smirked, saying it just to rile her more.

She shoved me away again and kept shoving until my back hit the opposite wall.

"Nothing about you is glorious!" the girl hissed. "You want to know why I won't tell Christian about Sharon? This is why!" she shouted, changing the subject. "She is in love with him, and Christian, being a guy, is completely oblivious. He breaks her heart at least twice a week but even though he can't see what's right in front of his face, he's still a good person. If I tell him I think Sharon's been drugged, he'll insist on taking her home to keep an eye on her. That will give her hope that maybe his feelings for her have miraculously changed in the course of an hour and that maybe, just maybe, he might love her back. Then he'll say something completely innocent in his mind, but completely hurtful in hers and her heart will be broken _again_!"

"Why do you care?" I demanded, forgetting for a moment that I was angry with her for what she'd said to me. "She's horrible to you!"

"Because broken hearts suck," she said softly, "and she's an even more bitter, harpy bitch when she's coming off yet another bout of Christian heartbreak. Are you done asking stupid questions now?"

"You know nothin' about guys do you?" I said, not able to resist throwing her words back in her face and not quite managing to hide my smile as I did it. It wasn't the most flattering way to use her words against her but it was true enough. Guys, whether human or vampire, asked a lot of stupid questions. I was a guy but I could admit that much.

The girl snorted but couldn't quite manage to hide her smile either, "Apparently, I know just as much about guys as you know about girls, Texas."

And just like that, the tension between us was broken. My anger faded away and I wanted to pull her close to me, rest my forehead against hers.

_What the hell is this girl doin' to me?_ I wondered, so confused I hardly knew what to do with myself. No one had ever been able to calm me down like this when I was so fuckin' angry; especially not when they were the reason I was so angry in the first place.

While I'd been wondering about the effect this girl had on me, I had unknowingly pulled her closer to me just as I had wanted to. I wasn't touching her now but my hands and arms were tingly from the contact with her skin. She was looking at me, searching my face for something. I stared right back, my gaze never wavering, and wondered what it was she was searching for.

"I have to go," she said, not looking away, and making no move to leave.

"Yeah," I replied, not looking away either.

She moved toward me an inch, then another, our eye contact never breaking.

"Food to serve, drinks to pour, living to earn," she breathed, her lips so very close to mine.

"Yeah," I said. Her scent was heady and I was drunk on her. In a fit of bloodlust-induced madness, I'd almost kissed her earlier; but that was earlier. Still, I made no move to push her away. The words to tell her to stop were stuck in my throat. The only moving my lips would be doing in the next several seconds would be when they were tangling with hers.

She leaned in closer and closer, and just when I thought our lips would finally touch, she shifted. Her mouth met my ear instead, and she whispered, "Get some sleep, Texas. You look like shit."

Maybe I should have gotten angry with her again but I found myself laughing instead.

"You are somethin' else, sugar," I chuckled.

The girl grinned at me, winked, and turned, heading out of our alcove and into the alley that led back to the bar. For some reason I couldn't fathom, I didn't like watching her walk away from me.

"Hey Paige!" I called out, to my surprise. I'd never called her anything but 'the girl' or 'the human' for a reason. Giving her a name, a real one, and referring to her by it would open the door to thinking of her as an actual person with feelings, hopes, and dreams. Acknowledging that shit led to caring. Even calling her 'sugar' was on the verge of crossing that line. I hadn't meant to call her by her name. I hadn't meant to call out to her at all.

From her expression as she poked her head around the corner, she hadn't been expecting me to extend our encounter any more than I had. She didn't ask what I wanted, just cocked a brow at me expectantly.

"I lied," I told her impulsively. At that point, even I hadn't known what I was going to say. It was almost like I wasn't in control of my own mouth but the only time that ever happened was when the Major had staged a coup. This was hardly cause for something like that though, so I dismissed the thought immediately and went back to the theory that my bloodlust made me stupid around this girl.

"About what Jasper?" she asked, that sexy voice of hers all soft and curious. It was the first time she'd said my name and the way it sounded as it rolled off her tongue had my already aching dick throbbing with the need for release ... again. I did my best to ignore it.

"You are anything but mediocre," I said. _In the 236 years I've walked this Earth, both as vampire and human, you are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen._

Nope, the Major was definitely not responsible for this episode of verbal diarrhea both internal and external. He would rather rip our balls off and toss them on a barbecue for roasting than make allowances for the pussy that was currently operating our mouth. I was still trying to figure out who that pussy was.

The girl snorted but her smile was genuine, "Cheesy bastard."

I smiled back at her for a split second so she knew I meant it before I let my lips spring into their usual smirk.

This time when she went to go back to work, I watched her walk away without comment or interference.

I stood there leaning against the brick wall of that alley for a long time, letting the smell of cigarettes, alcohol, sweat, asphalt, humidity, and horses as well as other humans try to cleanse her scent from my nose. It was fading but it was still there and I knew I had to leave Louisville. If I didn't, I would do something stupid, something monumentally, fantastically stupid … like kill her or, worse, kiss her.

I really, really hated that girl.

oOo

When I'd settled into the driver's seat of my Mustang my cell phone rang and, for the first time in four days, I answered.

"Howdy, Major," the voice on the other end of the line greeted brightly.

"Peter," I greeted back peevishly.

"Ali says you're in Louisville," he said, sounding excited.

Alice shouldn't have been able to see where I was since I hadn't been making conscious decisions during the whole of my impromptu road trip, but I had made a clear decision to leave Louisville so I guess it really wasn't that surprising.

"I am," I acknowledged, my voice still somewhat cold.

"Feel like comin' to visit on your way back up to the town of perpetual tears and depression?" Peter asked dryly.

At the moment, there wasn't a better way to describe Forks for me and I knew that a visit to Peter was exactly what I needed, especially after the mind-fuck that was my stop in Louisville. He and Charlotte were my brother and sister both in venom and in arms because I'd sired them and they had fought at my side in the Southern Wars. They had lived that hell just as I had and wrestled with their own horrific memories as a result. There was a camaraderie between us that I would never have with my adopted family, a camaraderie I never _wanted_ to have with them, and that camaraderie, that simple understanding was soothing in a way that couldn't be described with words. They just got it and I had never felt more like I belonged in the same way with anyone else. Sometimes it was just easier for me to breathe, figuratively speaking, with Peter and Charlotte. That didn't mean I didn't love my family or enjoy living with them. It was just the bitter truth. I usually spent my summers with Peter and Charlotte to decompress after spending nine months cooped up in a confined space with a bunch of hormonal teenagers but it just hadn't happened this year. Maybe spending some time with them, even if it was just a little, would get me back on track.

"Sounds good," I agreed, smiling. I was still miffed at him and Charlotte for ignoring me but Peter didn't usually do things without a reason, so I was going to have to let it go … after I tried to pry it out of him, of course.

"Well then," Peter drawled, "put your boot to the floor and get your ass to Texas already."

"See you soon, brother," I said with a chuckle, then hung up and punched the gas.

oOo

**A/N:** Okay, so I know I'm evil for breaking things off between them and having Jasper leave but does it make up for it at all if I tell you that the next chapter is the first peek you get inside of Bella's head?

Aside from my inherent evilness, what did you think of the chapter?


	12. Author's Note

Hi everyone,

I apologize for getting your hopes up about an early post but I feel the need to clarify a few things. Some of my readers have expressed concerns in regard to the last couple of chapters and I would like to address them.

While I made it clear early on that Bella is sixteen, though really she may as well be seventeen, I failed to clarify Jasper's physical age. I am going by the age at which he was turned in the books, which is nineteen. Some readers have expressed some discomfort with what happened between Bella and Jasper in chapter 10 because I failed to clarify this.

I need all of you to know that it was never my intention to make anyone uncomfortable. Abuse of any kind, especially that inflicted on children, is wrong and unacceptable. It is something that I take very seriously. I have personally seen how this affects victims and the people who love them. It destroys lives and I do not condone it in any way, shape, or form. I would never intentionally write a story or a character that condones that; especially not Jasper of all people, whom I love dearly. You will see from later chapters (which were written weeks ago, before these issues were brought to my attention) that this is very clearly the case.

Admittedly, the first few chapters have established a distinctly sexual tone but I assure you that sex is a secondary theme of Longing. What happened between Bella and Jasper in chapter 10 was an explicit situation obviously, but it wasn't really about sex even though Jasper thought it was. His denial and confusion are masking his real desires from him - those for love and connection in the way of a mate. I realize that there are other ways for people to connect but there is a lot more to Bella than meets the eye, and once Bella's side of things are delved into things will become much clearer. I would go into more detail but I don't want to give anything away.

I hope you can understand all of the things I felt needed to be discussed in this author's note, and why it was important for me to do so. I also hope you can be patient with me, where I'm taking things with this story, and how I am choosing to tell it.

Please also know that I appreciate anyone and everyone's opinions. People have every right to feel the way they feel and I would never presume to suggest otherwise. If you have questions or comments feel free to private message me though I would also appreciate that you phrase those questions and comments kindly and respectfully.

Thank you,  
JoyfulyetHesitantPen


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters. Also, I did not come up with Jasper as the God of War or of Peter 'just knowing shit'. Those ideas belongs to IdreamofEddy.

**A/N: **In honor of the holiday and because I teased you, here is the next chapter. Happy Thanksgiving! :)

Thank you to my beta Laurie Whitlock, my pre-readers AlwaysJASPERsLOVE, Shadman, and Shelljayz. Thank you also to shirleypositive72. Congrats on your Energize Awards win for The Lists! :)

This week was awesome! My sister, brother-in-law, and niece were here to visit for Thanksgiving and Charlotte Rose is the sweetest, smartest, cutest toddler ever. Plus, I got to see BD 2 with my sis and it was frickin' awesome! The other thing that was great about this week and every one since I started posting Longing - all of you! Everyone who has read, followed, favorited, and reviewed make me so damn happy it's ridiculous! :)

Now, let's get into Bella's head, shall we?

**Chapter 12**

oOo

_September 2080_

BPOV

I was in deep shit, seriously, seriously deep shit. That was the only possible way to describe my current situation. I was reasonably certain I'd come up with a way out of said situation but it was risky and I would only have a very small window of opportunity in which I could carry out this plan of mine. Unfortunately, until this window presented itself, and it would be awhile before it did, all I could do was wait but waiting wouldn't do me any favors.

I was cold and it had nothing to do with the fact that I was currently lying in a cold storage unit in the University of Louisville Hospital morgue with a tag marked "Jane Doe" looped around my right big toe. There were two kinds of cold chambers that could be found in morgues. The positive temperature kind, in which bodies were kept between 36°F and 39°F, were generally reserved for the bodies of people who had families to identify and bury them. In other words, they were short term, meant for storage of weeks. The negative temperature kind, in which bodies were kept between 14°F and -58°F, were typically used in forensic facilities for bodies that couldn't be identified. The body was basically frozen to prevent decomposition. This was the kind I found myself in, the temperature of my temporary frosty home hovering solidly at 5°F. A normal person may have died from the cold or, at the very least, been frozen solid after spending the three hours in this thing that I had but I was neither because I was about as far from normal as a person could get. I wasn't dead but I was cold, and I shouldn't have been. This was bad.

In the year 2012, terrorists infiltrated the United States Government and Armed Forces, having managed to smuggle operatives loyal to their cause into key government offices and powerful military positions both in the Pentagon and major military bases. In a coordinated attack, they managed to take out 25% of our military, which included soldiers, weaponry, and any technology required to carry out competent military operations, plus destroy California from San Jose all the way down through Ensenada, Mexico with strategically placed nuclear bombs. Their plans had included the destruction of a hell of a lot more real estate and millions more casualties, particularly military ones. By taking out our country's phenomenal defense against threats like them, they could more easily destroy everything else - not just land and lives, but everything our nation stood for. The only reason they hadn't been completely successful was because one of their most trusted leaders hadn't been quite as much of a zealot as neither he nor they had assumed, and had had an attack of conscience at the last possible minute. Our country had managed to scrape together enough of a defense to thwart the majority of their plan and had ended up saving a lot of lives.

We were fierce, unrelenting, and merciless in our retaliation but the enemy faction responsible for the attack was vast and had deeply hidden roots. The war that ensued to wipe them out stretched over a span of fifteen years and, while we had an upsurge of enlistment, we never really managed to make up for the 25% of the Armed Forces we lost. Even with the aid of our allies, the war ended up costing the United States another 40% of our military resources; mainly the lives of dedicated soldiers, and dealt a crushing blow to our economy and morale.

That was when the idea of genetically-engineered super soldiers was hatched. It was an idea that had been toyed with before but had been shelved. At first, there was the issue of ethics and whether or not science and technology were advanced enough to make a successful go of it. Then, when science and technology had been up for the task, the economy had been in the shitter and the government had decided fixing that was more important, which had been absolutely true. Plus, mechanical technology was getting so advanced that it seemed as though, in a few short years, they could send machines in to carry out the dangerous missions that soldiers risked their lives to complete in the name of protecting our country. It seemed silly to spend the money and waste the talents and time of brilliant scientists on a project that would soon be obsolete. Then came the attack and the war, and everything changed.

Initially, the government had been really gung-ho with the sending in the machines to fight the battles idea. They were firm, zealous, in their quest to eradicate any and all terrorism, and the people of the United States were behind them completely. Because so many lives had been lost our leaders were reluctant to send any more of our men and women out to their potential deaths. Sending actual soldiers into battle wasn't something that could be completely avoided, of course; but for the first couple years of the war, the machine tactic had worked brilliantly to keep the casualty rate to a minimum. We weren't the only ones with excellent technology, however. After those first couple years, our enemies started using electromagnetic pulses to disable the machines that kept the majority of our soldiers off the front lines. We started to do the same and it wasn't long before we were back to sending the brave men and women of our military back into bloody battles fought with nasty weapons and biological warfare; which was exactly what our opponents had ultimately wanted most - our lives. That's how we ended up losing another 40% of our soldiers.

Because of this, the government had had to revisit the idea of genetically-engineered super soldiers. In light of the massive casualties we'd suffered; 65% in total, the idea of being able to send in ten soldiers in place of one hundred or even a thousand and not suffer a single casualty, which was the premise behind the concept, was something they felt they needed to consider. However, even with all the money donated by the relief fund to help rebuild our military, California, and everything else that had suffered from the attack and resulting war, it still put us trillions of dollars more into debt trying to fix things. Even seven decades later we still hadn't really managed to fully restore things to the way they had been before. In light of this, they'd only been able to spare enough money to fund the research and development of one soldier prototype at a time. It was one of the most covert projects the government had ever given the green-light to. They hadn't wanted the public to know of the project their most elite team of scientists, biologists and genetic engineers most specifically, were undertaking, aptly named Project Apotheosis. Since no timeline could be given as to when these soldiers would be ready to replace their enlisted loved ones or if the elite scientists would even be successful in creating them, they hadn't wanted to give people false hope. But those elite scientists _had_ been successful. It had taken a little over fifty years but they did produce a truly functional genetically-engineered soldier.

That truly functional genetically-engineered super soldier prototype was me, Soldier Omega – the soldier meant to be the end all, be all of "ordinary" soldiers, which was why my being cold was such a bad thing. I didn't get cold – it wasn't in my genetic recipe. Obviously, I knew what cold was and how it felt; I just didn't feel it the way a normal person did unless I purposely lowered my body temperature. I used to do this for training purposes to prep for missions that might require its use. Now I did it in the spirit of preserving the illusion of normalcy, but I wasn't doing this on purpose.

I wasn't going to panic though. I had been trained not to panic even in the most dire situations, so for now I would be the soldier I'd been specifically created to be, focus on my plan, and wait for the right time to execute it. Until then, to keep myself occupied, I had plenty of time to reflect on how I'd gotten into this shitty, shitty situation.

oOo

This whole thing was entirely Jasper fucking Cullen's fault.

Of course, it had all started with my idiotic decision to break into the Cullen home. Desperation had been my motivation at the time and people do really stupid things when they're desperate.

I'd had a close call with hunters a month before that fateful day in Forks, Washington. "Hunters" were what I called the specially trained elite soldiers whose sole mission was to hunt me down and bring me back, alive, to Fort Ares, the military base at which I was created; though I'm sure they had a much fancier name for themselves. I was a science experiment the government had spent a shitload of money on, hoping not only that my existence would eliminate the need for "ordinary" people to enlist in the United States military but that it would cut the cost of maintaining the military in the long run. The fact that I had escaped their custody almost five years ago hadn't gone over well and they wouldn't rest until they had me back. I had been on the run for those five years and knew I probably would be for the rest of my life, but that was the price I had to pay for freedom.

The hunters, whom I had known on sight, hadn't actually known how close they'd come to catching me. I had walked right up to them on a bright street in Victoria, British Columbia under the guise of selling some crap fundraiser merchandise for the fictional high school I'd told them I went to. Engaging them in casual conversation designed to get them to buy the crap I'd bought at a cheesy tourist shop to pose as the fundraiser merchandise; I'd even managed to sell some of it to them. It was a ballsy move on my part, a stupid one even, but I'd had to know if they knew what I looked like. They should have with the state of age-simulation software these days, but you just never knew. If they had known who I was, they'd waited way too long to make their move. I'd walked away from them acting as though I hadn't a care in the world but as soon as I was out of their sight, I was out of that city in five minutes flat.

I went underground after that, both literally and figuratively. I used sewers and subway tunnels to travel. When I got tired of those, I swam - rivers, lakes, the ocean, any body of water deep enough to give me adequate cover. My route of travel was haphazard, completely unplanned, but I always knew what direction I was going. I didn't resurface for anything from the day of my encounter with the hunters until the day before I broke into the Cullens' house; not for food, not for sleep, not for bathing. I'd known I could live without the first two for a while and the latter was a luxury I was willing to live without until I felt like it was safe to reemerge.

The sleeping thing wasn't new. I'd never needed more than a handful of hours every couple weeks. Not eating wasn't pleasant but it was doable. It had been explained by one of the scientists who'd created me as a sort of hibernation, which I could achieve by learning to lower my body temperature, slow my breathing, and lower my metabolic rate. It was something I had learned to do through hours upon hours of training and practice, but was only capable of due to the fact that the scientists that had created me had spliced the DNA of some unknown, to me, mammal that did this into my double helix. The purpose of this had been to give me the ability to hunker down in the event of missions gone awry where circumstances were particularly catastrophic; the kind of circumstances where I would have no access to supplies and could not be extracted for an unforeseeable amount of time. Making use of this particular ability had been tricky to do after my encounter with the hunters because I hadn't been willing to veg for longer than thirty-six hours every ten days. I couldn't exactly jet around like I was pumped full of rocket fuel, which was a good way to describe what I looked like at full speed, and moving at any velocity above sloth put my body into two conflictive states, but I'd done it. I had ridden that line and I'd gone from healthy to unattractively thin in the four weeks I'd gone underground. If I had been able to hunker down in the tradition of true hibernation I probably could have gone another two months before I'd gotten to that point but I had been too paranoid not to keep moving, which meant less energy conservation and the loss of more body mass at an infinitely quicker rate. Needless to say, I'd been as ravenous as a bear by the time I felt I could go back to my attempts at living as normal a life as I could considering my circumstances … I laughed quietly at this simile. How could I not?

The Cullen house really had seemed deserted when I'd come across it or maybe I'd just been so hungry and exhausted I'd convinced myself it did. In my defense, the place was neat as a pin. There wasn't one single thing out of place that I could see, which clearly suggested abandonment even though the complete and utter lack of dust was a little contradictory. I mean, who is that freakishly tidy? The place had put the home of even the most clinically severe OCD patient to shame. Plus, there hadn't been a scrap of food to be found anywhere in that kitchen. Who lets their refrigerator, pantry, and cupboards get completely empty before they go grocery shopping?

Though I had been ten times more exhausted than I would have been under normal circumstances because of my self-induced starvation, still feeling like I was under water to a certain degree, their lock had still been a breeze to pick. One would think, being as rich as they were, that they would have had better security to protect their clearly priceless possessions. No amount of security they could have had would have been a problem for me, but still. I had been caught completely off guard when their car came zooming up the driveway, screeching to a halt, the front door banging open so swiftly that some part of my fatigued mind registered it as being abnormal. I hadn't thought on that much though. I had been far too busy concentrating on a quick escape, but I had been mildly delirious at the time and that quick escape hadn't exactly gone as planned. I hadn't been as light on my feet as I would have been at optimum strength and the wet rubber of the sole of my shoe rubbed against the shiny polished wood floor of their kitchen just hard enough to produce the squeak heard 'round the world.

I had been angry with myself for getting caught, that I'd had to _let _them catch me once they figured out I was in their house in the first place; but more than that, I had been sorry. I didn't like stealing even though sometimes it was just something I had to do to survive. When I was younger, it was something I'd had to do a lot. No one was willing to hire a twelve year old for work that paid decent enough to keep me fed, clothed, and sheltered. No one was really willing to hire a twelve year old period, and it wasn't like I could go to homeless shelters or into the foster system. The government couldn't acknowledge my existence but those were still places they would look even though they had taught me better than to hide out in places like that. Maybe these people had money coming out the ass and wouldn't be affected by the loss of a couple bazillion thread count towels and cans of food, but I was older now. I worked hard and paid for the things I needed.

Of course, Dr. and Mrs. Cullen had had every right to threaten me with calling the police. I had broken into their home so it hadn't bothered me. Maybe it would have if they had meant it but I was good at reading people, and they hadn't. Strangely enough, they'd both been amused by how blasé I'd been about the whole situation. Mrs. Cullen had been curious.

_It must be nice to be so well off that the thought of having any of your many priceless belongings stolen doesn't faze you, _I remembered thinking.

Dr. Cullen looked concerned but patient.

_What kind of freak shows concern for the person who burgled his house? _was what I had thought of that.

They had both looked kind but _looking_ something and _being _something were two entirely different things. I, of all people, knew that. I hadn't trusted them; trust had never been a luxury I was able to afford and there was something about the two of them that was off. I couldn't put my finger on what it was that was off about them, but that didn't really matter. I may not have been at 100% but I had still been more than capable of watching my own ass. Whether they really were kind or serial killers masquerading as docile millionaires, I could have taken them out.

I had told them I was sorry after that and had meant it, honestly thinking that would be the end of it, that after having done it I would be able to make my escape and move on. I hadn't expected seemingly sweet-natured Mrs. Cullen to tell me, in a very mother-like and inflexible fashion, that I most certainly would not be leaving nor had I expected the unadulterated wave of fury that had overtaken me as a result. I had never had a mother. I didn't need one, I didn't want one, and I sure as hell hadn't asked for one.

When they'd threatened me with the police again, I'd known they meant it that time and I'd had to think hard about what to do. What it had boiled down to was whether or not I had wanted to risk drawing attention to myself. Dr. and Mrs. Cullen were willing to do whatever it took to keep me out of the weather, which I found odd as hell, including calling the police and having me thrown in whatever passed for jail in Forks. After what had happened with the hunters, I hadn't been willing to take that risk. Maybe it had happened a month before but I had still been shaken by it, and these rich ass people were giving me an option besides the police. Of course, if they'd been bullshitting me I wouldn't have hesitated to take off, but I hadn't thought they were and taking their word for it; which was not the same thing as trusting them, was a risk I had been more willing to take than the other option I'd been presented with.

I couldn't even say that staying with the Cullens had been bad those first few hours. I had gotten to take a wonderful bath, eat delicious, if frozen, pizza, quell my exhaustion by sleeping on a bed that could only be described as a freaking cloud, listen to kickass music, brush my teeth after way too many weeks of neglecting dental hygiene though that wasn't something I really had to worry about much either, and pretend that they really were nice. It wasn't until the cold light of day broke the next morning that I realized I should have taken my chances and bolted.

The first blow had come when I'd had to accept clothes from Mrs. Cullen. I'd been wearing a pair of yoga pants, a t-shirt, a hoodie, and a pair of Chucks when I'd had my scrape with the hunters. I hadn't risked taking the time to change before I'd booked it from British Columbia, and none of that was suitable attire for extended urban spelunking and water habitation. I'd been so focused on keeping a low profile that I hadn't bothered paying attention to the state of what I was wearing until I was told it hadn't survived my crusade to remain in charge of my own destiny. I hadn't wanted to take the clothes or the embarrassingly skimpy, extravagant, and expensive underwear that would have belonged to her teenage daughter if Mrs. Cullen hadn't offered it to me before she'd gotten a chance to wear it. I provided for myself. Only at that moment I couldn't because, just like I hadn't taken the time to change, on the off chance the hunters had known who I was, I hadn't risked going back to my place in Victoria to grab my things, including the stash of money I'd saved from my pizza delivery job and other various pursuits; and all the money I'd had on me at the time I'd left had been lost during my deep sea excursions. Idiot move on my part, I realized. I may have been a genetically-engineered super soldier but I'm not fucking perfect. Seeing as I'd already accepted their hospitality in offering me a place to stay and the food the night before, the clothes just made me feel like a first-class charity case, especially since they'd done all that in spite of the fact that I'd broken into their home, but I wasn't charity - I hadn't escaped Project Apotheosis so that other people could take care of me. Unfortunately, with no money of my own I was shit out of luck, so I really hadn't had any choice but to accept the clothes since my only other option was to walk around in a towel.

To make things worse, I'd actually gotten embarrassed about the state my clothes had been in, especially my underwear, and I didn't _do_ embarrassed. I never had but there I was, completely embarrassed in front of a woman I didn't know. I had been immensely glad I had such an awesome poker face even though I hadn't been able to prevent a slight blush from coloring my cheeks.

Then, without even realizing what I'd been doing, I was joking with Mrs. Cullen. That hadn't been good. It meant she was growing on me and attachments were another luxury I couldn't afford, but I wasn't sure I had been able help it. Even though she'd been a serious bitch the night before, acting like she was my mother, her face was so open, so sweet, her voice so kind and genuine. It had been hard not to like her just a little and it had been fun to mess with her. It had been even more fun when she'd messed with me right back, though I hadn't shown her just how much I'd enjoyed it. The realization that I liked her had had the urge to leave overwhelming me again and I'd been shocked to become aware of the fact that the urge had dulled in the first place. Then she'd gone and offered me more food and told me that she and Dr. Cullen hadn't told their children that I'd broken into their house so that _I _wouldn't feel uncomfortable. Who did that?

I hadn't been looking forward to meeting Dr. and Mrs. Cullen's children. I knew they had more than one daughter and at least one son, and I hadn't been quite sure how to deal with that. I didn't have much experience with kids my own age. The only people I'd been exposed to the first twelve years of my life on Fort Ares had been adults so in the civilian world I had pretty much always been on the outside looking in when it came to people my age. I only had vague ideas about what they liked, whether it was what they did in their spare time or what music they listened to or if what they liked to eat was different than the food adults did, and it wasn't something I had ever taken the time to remedy. I didn't see the point in bothering because of my "no attachments" rule, so I hadn't been sure I'd know how to talk to them and I hadn't really been in the mood to talk to anyone at all. I had still been exhausted, hungry, and feeling kind of like I hadn't left the ocean behind - socializing hadn't been a top priority at the time. As much as I would have liked to put off meeting the Cullen brood, one frozen pizza was nowhere near enough to make up for the four weeks I had gone without food and my keen nose couldn't ignore the heavenly smell of the breakfast coming from downstairs. Plus, I didn't run away from things; well, aside from military operatives trying to drag me back to Fort Ares and Project Apotheosis, but that was different. Besides, the sooner I ate, the sooner I could leave.

The sheer amount of food they'd prepared had momentarily distracted me from the prospect of being introduced to the rest of the Cullen family. They had gone from no food whatsoever to enough to feed the entire base I'd been raised on for a week. I hardly ever got distracted though and if I ever did, it was only for very brief periods of time. That time was no different and was easily explained by my exhaustion. I hadn't been happy about it but I put that aside and focused on the five unfamiliar people in the kitchen in addition to Dr. and Mrs. Cullen.

Three boys and two girls, who had all looked like they'd just stepped off a fucking runway, were standing in that kitchen. While my peripheral vision took the others in, my eyes had first been drawn to the giant standing by the counter filled with all that delicious-smelling food, but not because Dr. Cullen had pointed him out first. The dude must have been 6'5" with short, slightly curly, dark brown hair and was built like a damn tank. From the way his sweater hugged his body, he, whom Dr. introduced as Emmett, was all muscle and power. If I had been some meek little girl, I might have been afraid of him but his face was open and friendly, and his boyish smile caused two deep-set dimples to pop out on either side of his mouth. He had been beautiful in a way that boys shouldn't be and he looked just as kind as his mother and father; if mischievous in a way that they weren't. I hadn't perceived him as a threat but that hadn't meant I wasn't going to keep my eye on him. I was tired but I wasn't stupid. I was in an unfamiliar place with people I didn't know and my escape and evade training as well as the last five years I'd spent running were deeply ingrained in me; that was something that could not and would not be ignored even if I had wanted to, which I hadn't. I had been a little weirded out when he'd dubbed me Storm but his reasoning was apt, humorous, and endearing in equal measure so I'd gotten over it. It had been better than them knowing what my actual name was and I never used my real name wherever I went anyway. I'd also noted during his naming of me that he'd, in no uncertain terms, declared Rosalie his significant other. Seeing as they were brother and sister; albeit adopted brother and sister with no actual blood relation, that had struck me as more than a little odd.

The first girl had been introduced to me as Rosalie, even though Emmett had said that was her name before she'd officially been presented as such by Dr. Cullen. She had been a statuesque 5'9" with long, shining, pale blond hair and possessing a body that would have driven women of any age to maddening jealousy. She would have been the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, even more gorgeous than Esme who'd previously claimed that title, if not for the hideous scowl on her face. Clearly, she hadn't been a fan of mine but that hadn't bothered me. If anything, it had made me glad. If all of the Cullens had been nice to me, I might have started to like them all and it had already been bad enough that I liked Dr. and Mrs. Cullen.

The next boy had been introduced as Edward. He had been 6'2" with unruly bronze hair. Emmett had been beautiful in a way boys weren't supposed to be but with his bulky muscles he was on the rugged side. Edward, on the other hand, was more than just beautiful; he was pretty, so pretty it almost hurt to look at him with his high cheekbones, strong jaw line, straight nose and full lips. He was lean, not skinny per se, but lanky. I couldn't tell if he was buff like Emmett was but just because his muscles hadn't been dying to rip the seams of his sweater didn't mean he wasn't cut. He'd looked like he could get a decent brood going if he had a mind to and he had seemed curious when he regarded me, his golden gaze intent as he looked at my face. If I hadn't known any better I would have said that the weird pressure I felt in my head was a direct result of those piercing gazes of his, but I did know better and that wasn't possible.

The second girl was introduced as Alice. She had been a sprightly 4'10" with short, expertly flared black hair. For someone of such small stature, her body hadn't been remotely boyish. It had been like a miniature of Rosalie's but proportionate to her size. Her face, just like Mrs. Cullen's, Rosalie's and all the others', had been exquisite with large, doe eyes and long, delicate eyebrows. The beauty of these people had made me throw up in my mouth a little. Alice, like Emmett, Mrs. Cullen, and Dr. Cullen, had seemed very kind and very excited to meet me. She'd been bouncing on her tiptoes with the grace of a dancer and waving at me like I was her long lost sister. I had been sure to caution myself not to talk to her much, as I'd done with Emmett, because I knew that if I had I might have ended up liking her more than I should.

The last boy was introduced as Jasper. He'd been 6'3" with wavy, honey blond hair that fell just above his collar, his body lean but muscular. One look at him had nearly taken my breath away and caused my heart to pound in my chest. Thankfully, years of training to keep my heart rate under my control had kept that from happening. I suppose I shouldn't have been worried about it since it wasn't as though he would have been able to hear my racing heart, but it was comforting nonetheless. The hitch in my breath may have been audible enough to give me away if I had allowed it, but I had stayed in control of that also. I had always liked being in control of things, always been told I had to be. It hadn't been something I had wanted to give up whether he'd been aware of his effect on me or not. He had been beautiful and rugged in the same way that Emmett had been but that had only been part of what had captured my attention. All of the Cullens had perfect, pale, porcelain skin that almost shone. Jasper's skin would have been the same if not for the crescent-shaped scars that littered his face, neck, jaw, and hands, making it glow rather than shine. The scars had been faint; I doubted I would have seen them at all if not for my enhanced vision – I could see up to two miles away with an unobstructed view. Maybe I should have been disgusted by them but I hadn't been; they had only made him more appealing to me. In truth, he'd been the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and those scars had made me feel a desperate sort of kinship with him. If not for the awesome power of the abundance of stem cells running through my veins as well as the other regenerative science that existed within my DNA, I'd have been covered from head to toe in scars myself from all the training, poking and prodding I'd endured from my years as a human science project. I hadn't been able to help but wonder if the rest of him was scarred too and had felt a flash of embarrassment and confusion when I'd imagined myself stripping him of his shirt and pants to find out, but at least I hadn't blushed that time.

The other thing that had drawn me to him was his presence. He'd had a charisma about him that had been evident without him even having needed to speak a word, and there had been a leonine power and grace to him that couldn't be ignored and only added to his beauty. Those things had screamed "danger" and "run" but that seemed only to add to his appeal. Of all the Cullens, he had been the one to be afraid of but I wasn't. I knew I should have been but mostly he'd piqued my curiosity. I had wanted to know what had happened to him and I had felt a curious need to tell him everything that had happened to me. That, of course, had confused the hell out of me. I had never had the urge to tell anyone anything about my origins. I had absolutely no desire to be looked at like a freak. I _was_ a freak, but knowing I was one and other people knowing I was one were two completely different things. Besides, anyone knowing where I came from was just asking to be sent back and I'd worked way too fucking hard to avoid going back there to risk that just because I was intrigued by a scarred, beautiful boy.

oOo

**A/N:** Alright, just in case anyone decides to ask, you won't find out why Bella is in the morgue for several chapters. This chapter and the ones following it are the story of how she ended up there, which is incredibly important to the plot, so try to be patient.

Apotheosis means "the making of a mortal into a god." In Greek myth, it generally happens after a mortal has died. Obviously, this is not the case for Bella.

So what did you think? Did you love it? Hate it? Are you surprised? I would love to know! :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters. Also, I did not come up with Jasper as the God of War or of Peter 'just knowing shit'. Those ideas belongs to IdreamofEddy and I thank covenmama for telling me this.

**A/N: **Thank you to my beta Laurie Whitlock, my pre-readers AlwaysJASPERsLOVE, Shadman, and Shelljayz, my beloved sister. Thank you also to shirleypositive72.

Also, congrats to Laurie for her win in the Energize Awards for most inspirational beta. You deserve it girlie! :)

As always, I need to thank everyone who has read, favorited, followed, and reviewed. You all rock! :)

Who else likes that I named the place where Bella was created Fort Ares? Apt don't you think?

Now, it's time to find out what Bella thought of breakfast with the Cullens and the confrontation with Rosalie ...

**Chapter 13**

oOo

_September 2080_

BPOV

I'd acknowledged all of the Cullen children curtly and moved my attention to the food, trying to ignore the fact that Alice and Emmett had been seemingly upset by my lackluster response to their enthusiasm in meeting me. I'd been so hungry I'd gotten distracted again, not noticing that Mrs. Cullen had come up behind me until she put her hand on my back, and flinching as though I'd been burned. I hated that I reacted that way when people touched me, thought I should be stronger than to let my past get to me like that, but I genuinely loathed being touched. It was ironic really - throw a punch or a well-aimed kick at me and I didn't bat an eye; I knew how to take those, but anything else and I was that meek little girl that should have been afraid of someone like Emmett. Everyone needed physical affection from time to time, but I'd never really gotten that before and the skittishness about touching was a remnant of all the abuse I'd taken growing up. It wasn't something I was certain I would ever be able to shake but I didn't really see what I could do about it. The only touching I was really okay with was touching that I initiated and I rarely ever did that. I mean, who did I have to touch?

Mrs. Cullen had encouraged me to help myself to the food but there had been no way in hell that I was going touch any of it before any of them did, and eventually Dr. Cullen had figured that out. I'd waited until every last one of them had filled a plate before I'd filled one for myself and joined them in the dining room at that big ass table. I hadn't understood what Dr. and Mrs. Cullen had needed it for the night before but since I'd met their _five_ children that mystery had been solved. There had been a free seat next to Emmett and another next to Jasper but I had taken neither of them, which had deeply disheartened Emmett, instead moving the chair at the foot of the table to askew so its back faced the corner of the room. When I sat, my back was to the two adjoining walls and wasn't left open to attack, and the closest means of escape—the patio door—was just to my left. It also left me in prime position to watch everyone. None of those were habits that would ever be broken.

As I'd eaten my breakfast, I'd continued my observation of each member of the Cullen family. My initial observations had been cursory at best and I was nothing if not thorough when it came to my safety. They had looked like the perfect, harmless Abercrombie too big Mormon or Catholic family but there had still been a sense of wrongness about them that I hadn't been able to shake. My instincts about that kind of thing were rarely amiss and I hadn't been able to ignore that. Maybe I should have abandoned my breakfast and just gotten the hell out of dodge but I was so fucking hungry and even if there was something seriously off about the lot of them, they'd been so nice. Nice was just … nice for once. I wasn't used to nice and I had wanted that just for a little while. If they got freaky on me, I would have taken care of it and then taken off but until I'd unequivocally proven that they were going to attempt to take me prisoner for the express purpose of cutting me up into little, little pieces to make a Bella stew, I'd decided to roll with the punches; so I'd kept my wits about me and watched them.

I'd already determined that the only threat Dr. and Mrs. Cullen posed to me was by making good on their warning to call the police. Rosalie had definitely presented herself as a threat but I hadn't been afraid of her. Still, that hadn't meant I was going to dismiss her. Edward hadn't been hostile the way Rosalie had been when Dr. Cullen had introduced us but he wasn't really open or friendly the way Emmett or his parents had been. I hadn't pegged him as a threat either but that hadn't meant he wasn't. Alice also hadn't stricken me as a threat but, yet again, I hadn't dismissed her as one. Of all of the Cullens, Jasper had most definitely been the one to keep the closest eye on. He'd seemed to have an almost military air about him. It had been in the way he'd carried himself and I hadn't liked that one damn bit but that hadn't stopped me from feeling drawn to him.

Of all of them, he had been the only one who'd seemed to notice my keen surveillance and he'd met my gaze head on when it fell on him, his eyes full of challenge. I didn't shy away from challenges; I hadn't been built that way and damn if the way his eyes smoldered with that silent challenge hadn't been hot as hell. Those golden orbs were mesmerizing but they were guarded. All of the Cullens' eyes had an age and depth to them that didn't match their appearance but Jasper's were filled with a sadness and a certain haunted quality that had made me both more intrigued by him and inspired a curious need to comfort him. I still haven't been able to figure out how, but he'd almost seemed to know what I'd been thinking and it had made him angry. I'd heard of eyes going dark with desire or anger but I had never lent it much credence. Now I had proof that it was true, I'd just never expected it to have been so literal because when I say his eyes went dark, I meant they turned black; but that thought had quickly slipped my mind because the strangest thing had happened then: I'd gotten lost in those eyes of his. The whole world had faded away and it was just the two of us. It only happened for a second but it left me in a daze. Thankfully, he'd seemed just as out of it but that only lasted for a second as well and I didn't know what the hell it meant. I'd never lost complete awareness of my surroundings before. It had thrown me for a loop and I hadn't liked it one fucking bit; but at the same time it had felt … I don't know. Then he'd cocked a brow at me in question, as if to ask, _What the fuck are you staring at?_

I'd just blinked and turned back to my food, knowing it wouldn't do me any good to even try to figure out what that had been. I was leaving soon and it wouldn't matter so I hadn't seen the point in bothering. Then twenty questions had started, I'd given answers as vague as I could make them, and left the whole thing with Jasper completely behind, as if it hadn't happened in the first place. The questions had gotten real old real fast but Emmett's and Alice's sadness at my refusal to cooperate with their quest to get to know me had unexpectedly tugged at my heartstrings, so I'd given in and thrown them a bone; just one bone but a bone nonetheless. It had been enough to appease them until Edward had mysteriously choked on his orange juice, rather hilariously spraying it all over Rosalie, and had to be excused from the table. Not long after that he had excused himself from the table and though my hearing was still off, I could have sworn I'd heard him laughing his ass off for God only knows what reason.

Breakfast had been over not long after that, during which I'd eaten a shitload of food. Despite this, it had only served to put a dent in my voracious post-hibernation appetite but I couldn't have eaten everything on the table without looking like the first-class freak that I was, and it would have made me sick anyway since going so long without food had caused my stomach to shrink. I'd cleaned up my own plate like I had the night before, leaving everyone else to deal with their own suspiciously full ones since I wasn't a fucking maid. I'd also helped put away the leftovers since all the pots, pans, bowls, and various other cooking utensils used to concoct that culinary masterpiece of a meal had pretty much been taken care of before I'd even come downstairs, and then headed toward the living room where most everyone had congregated but not actually entering it. I should have been preparing myself to leave but I had been curious. That had really been the first time I'd had a chance to be around a family in their home environment and I was wanting to observe more of their dynamic. I hadn't known if I would ever get another opportunity to see such a thing and thought I may as well take it. They hadn't yet attempted to make me into a Bella stew and I could still take off whenever. Plus, even though I'd made quite a bit of headway in restoring my energy reserves with all the food I'd eaten, I had still been tired so the smartest move I could have made was to conserve as much energy as I could before I headed out.

Alice, energetic, excitable little sprite that she was, hadn't been able to let me alone to observe them all in peace though. She'd wanted to bond, which had included an attempt at touching. I had tersely rebuffed said attempt, promptly receiving a puppy dog face that had managed to be both heartbreaking and formidable, as contradictory as those two things were. Now, I didn't break even under the most horrific torture – my trainers had seen to that, but damn if that face hadn't seriously threatened to shatter my resolve. The government really could have used that girl as an interrogator. Her success rate at getting people to break and provide us with valuable, accurate intelligence would have been sky high.

When Edward had come up behind me; his footsteps damn near soundless, it had raised the hairs on the back of my neck in alarm. Maybe my hearing wasn't up to par, but I had still sensed him and aside from myself, I had never come across anyone who could move that quietly. It had been yet another thing that screamed that the Cullens weren't normal, another thing that should have had me heading for the hills but even so I still hadn't been afraid of them. Maybe if I'd been an ordinary human I would have been but I wasn't, and I had still been confident that I could handle myself. Maybe that could also have been considered stupid but I had still just wanted nice for a while and as off as the Cullens had seemed, they were nice … mostly. Rosalie most definitely could not have been considered nice, the jury had still been out on Jasper, and Edward had been a pretty neutral entity, but the rest of them were or so I'd wanted to believe. I'd only ever met one other genuinely nice person and as I'd said before, I'd really just needed nice, especially then.

I'd felt incredibly stupid for leaving my back open to attack like that. It was something I knew better than to do, so I'd immediately amended that as soon as Edward had passed me. That had been another bad thing about being with the Cullens. I would have loved to blame my inattentiveness on my exhaustion, not that that wasn't a reprehensible excuse, but a small, very reluctant, part of me had to wonder if I had gotten sloppy because they'd been lulling me into some sort of false sense of security. It had been awful enough that I had not only found myself beginning to like Dr. and Mrs. Cullen but Emmett and Alice as well. Then there had been the whole freaky thing with Jasper but also that I'd continued to find little excuses not to leave. Perhaps, I'd been overreacting. Leaving my back vulnerable once wasn't too big a deal. My senses were damn near perfect and so were my reflexes even if I hadn't been at my best at the time. They _were_ perfect when I was, but I still hadn't liked it one fucking bit. I couldn't afford to go soft or to care about anyone, which wasn't to say I didn't care about people in general. I wasn't a cold bitch but attachments made my life unbelievably difficult, and liking these people hadn't meant that I cared about them; especially not Jasper.

It shouldn't have surprised me when Edward pulled Alice into his arms in a distinctly non-fraternal fashion and pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead. It hadn't exactly been a stretch since Emmett and Rosalie were a couple but it still had. I didn't know much about families, adoptive or blood-related, but I had been certain that that wasn't normal protocol for blood-related ones and relatively so for adoptive ones. Dr. and Mrs. Cullen clearly ran a loose ship but they weren't my family so it hadn't been my business.

When Edward had told me it was pointless to resist Alice's puppy dog face, I'd gone ahead and agreed to what she'd wanted to do. I hadn't wanted to waste the time going back and forth but I had conditions. I would go along with it only if it didn't crossed any lines of mine that were absolutely, non-negotiably uncrossable. Thankfully, her idea of bonding had been to watch a movie. I hadn't been thrilled when she'd chosen a romance called _The Notebook_, a movie made decades before my time. Now, I had nothing against romance. Just because I'd been born and raised a soldier for the first twelve years of my life didn't mean I was butch, but stuff like that was really hard for me to watch, whether it was movies, witnessing the tender moment between Dr. and Mrs. Cullen the night before, seeing Emmett's clear devotion to Rosalie and, surprisingly, hers to him, or the way that Alice and Edward were with each other. It just made me uncomfortable and reminded me of things I'd rather not be reminded of.

While I'd found that irritating, it hadn't been the thing that really bothered me though. What had bothered me was who I'd ended up sitting next to. When I'd agreed to watch Alice's movie, she'd kind of herded me into the living room. I'd allowed it because, while I'd had to move my back away from the wall, my peripheral vision was stellar, allowing for a near 360° view, and no one had been in my immediate vicinity ... until I'd gotten close to the large white sofa. Alice had chosen to invade my personal space to such a degree that if I'd wanted to avoid touching her without coming across as the freak I was I had to sit down. The seat that I happened to take was right next to Jasper. I would have moved, I had wanted to, but before I could Alice had pushed Edward down next to me and taken a seat on his lap. All of the other Cullens had taken the rest of the seats so unless I'd wanted to sit on the floor; and I hadn't, I'd been stuck next to him.

Two inches - that's how far apart Jasper and I had been from each other for the duration of the movie. Those two inches had made me feel both the loneliest and most claustrophobic I had ever felt in my life and even lying here in this blasted morgue storage unit all these weeks later, as I thought back on that day I still couldn't wrap my head around it. There had been this weird energy that bridged the gap between his skin and mine, an energy completely foreign to me, and it had sparked such a strong desire to touch him that I'd had to find something to do with my hands just to keep myself from actually doing it. That something had been playing with the necklace I never took off and it did more for me than just keeping my hands busy; it gave me comfort and strength, enough comfort and strength to resist the pull toward him that I couldn't seem to shake but that pull hadn't been the only thing that had nearly driven me crazy. The scent of him was lush and tantalizing but just as confusing as everything else about him. He smelled of rich, sun-warmed leather, nutmeg, newly cut hay, and fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies with an undertone of sunshine, the scent of the air right before it rains, and crisp, red apples. I had never met anyone that smelled of so many things all at once. The combination was intoxicating and I'd wanted to lean into him, bury my nose in that seemingly soft honey blond hair of his and take a deep breath. Though playing with my necklace had succeeded in giving me the resolve and strength I'd needed both to keep from touching and sniffing him, I'd nearly broken it in my quest to distract myself.

When the movie was over 123 torturous minutes later, he'd jumped up from the couch so fast he was almost a blur. I hadn't been able to help thinking that maybe sitting next to me had bothered him just as much as sitting next to him had me, and the little stab of hurt that caused was surprising.

_What the hell is this guy doing to me? _I remember thinking, my confusion deepening.

I hadn't failed to notice that Jasper didn't leave the room though. Like me, he'd taken to watching everyone and his hawk-like awareness was something I'd picked up on at breakfast. He observed the ease with which Dr. and Mrs. Cullen seemed to exist in each other's presence, the way Alice's face was hidden in Edward's neck as she tried to recover from the heartbreak of the ending of the movie, Edward rubbing her back soothingly. Rosalie had been in a similar position with Emmett, tears shining in her eyes as she rested her head on his shoulder, Emmett pressing kisses into her hair and holding her hand tightly. Emmett, sweet lug that he was, had been a little choked up himself which had made my heart clench, but only slightly. Absently, I'd noted that their tears hadn't smelled salty like they should have, but sweet. Though ignoring details of any size went against my training, I hadn't paid it any mind since the off scent of tears seemed inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, and I had been too busy watching Jasper out of the corner of my eye to care much about it. He'd been looking at the two couples like he didn't understand them and I understood _that_.

Before I'd walked through the Cullens' door, all I had known about love was that it was supposed to exist. I'd never seen it before … not the real, true, pure kind anyway, or much of any other kind to be honest. Then I'd gotten a look at Dr. and Mrs. Cullen, and now I was seeing Emmett and Rosalie and Edward and Alice. There was no doubt in my mind that what those three couples had together was love personified, and that the bonds between the members of this family were love as well. It was just that there was a disconnect there for me. Only a few short hours ago, love had practically been a myth, something that only existed in movies like _The Notebook_, but looking at the couples and the family as a whole had opened my eyes. Love was real. It was a solid, tangible thing that appeared to come with a great deal of genuine companionship and deep-seated roots and it made my heart ache with realization - I didn't want to be alone. I'd never thought about it before, never allowed myself to, because it just couldn't be. I was nothing if not realistic and my reality was one of solitude. It always would be, and it had never bothered me before; at least, I never thought it had. Being around these people had wrenched open the door to whatever compartment in my brain I'd shoved that particular desire into, but now that that desire was roaming free there would be no shoving it back in. Despite my acceptance of my reality, knowing that this was something I wanted but could never have hurt like a son of a bitch, and in that moment I'd hated every single one of the Cullens for ripping open a wound I hadn't even known I had and rubbing salt in it.

The wound was still raw and aching when Mrs. Cullen returned from her trip upstairs, which I'd noticed was muffled. When I thought about it, my hearing had been off the whole time I'd been in the guest room, even more off than when I was in anywhere else in the house. It had to have been some sort of soundproofing but I couldn't for the life of me figure out what these people would need soundproofing for; that was another thing, however, that was none of my business.

After that, all I had wanted was to find some graceful way to slip away from this subtly fucked up family so I could go off and tend to my bruised heart, but I was frozen, still too stunned from my sudden insight. Because of this, I had failed to notice when I'd ceased to be a renegade asset of Project Apotheosis and become a part of Project Winter Barbie instead.

The boots and coat were beautiful just like the other clothes Mrs. Cullen had given me to wear; even the wool socks were, but I didn't want them. If I hadn't been hurting so damn badly from earlier maybe I wouldn't have been so infuriated by her meddling and outright refusal to acknowledge that I wanted nothing to do with any of it. Actually, that wasn't true at all. She had been hitting every nerve rooted in every sensitive subject that resonated within me, heightened by the painful _Notebook _revelation and the new awareness that it brought with it. She was, once again, acting like she was my mother, which made me furious and I now had to wonder if the reason that bothered me so much wasn't because I didn't want one but because I actually did. She was also, yet again, treating me like charity, something I hated almost as much as I hated Project Apotheosis. Suddenly, I hadn't cared that she was just trying to be kind. All I'd seen was red and I had completely lost it, going off on her in a way she had only partially deserved. Still, I hadn't been sorry for doing it and felt even less so when Dr. Cullen had looked at me with such genuine empathy after my little temper tantrum was through. All that had done was make me want to strangle him for his seemingly endless patience.

I had been furious with Mrs. Cullen but when Rosalie stepped forward and actually _called _me a charity case instead of just implying it, I'd been downright murderous. I had stood there, heart pounding with rage, breathing heavily, for quite a bit of time actually contemplating beating the bitch into a coma before I realized that was exactly what she had wanted. Well, I'm sure she hadn't actually wanted me to ruin that pretty face of hers but she had been deliberately baiting me with the intention of making me miserable and I wasn't going to bite.

Typically, I was a fairly even-tempered person, though my behavior over the last several hours would suggest otherwise. I could think through tough, stressful situations with a cool head and come up with strategies to get myself and others out of them. It was another thing I had been trained to do and though I loathed that I had the knowledge, I had to admit, pretty much all of it was damn useful. I had decided I was going to use that knowledge to turn the tables on her and revel in watching her swallow a bitter spoonful of her own medicine, but I had to think fast because the quicker I came back at her the more effective my blow would be. Thinking fast wasn't a problem for a girl with an IQ of 250 and considering how well-versed I was in battle strategy and finding weaknesses in my opponents, it wasn't difficult for me to dissect hers quickly. She was vain as evidenced by the times I'd caught her checking her reflection in the various mirrors in the house, and from her little spiel, she was possessive of the things she considered hers: clothes, shoes, and, if I was reading her correctly, Emmett. If I came up with the right plan, playing on those things would have been worth a hundred brutal bitch slaps and violent hair pulls though I would have much preferred a good_ Fight Club_-esque brawl. The plan I came up with, and executed brilliantly I might add, had done exactly that.

Rosalie had been expecting me to stand there fuming or burst out crying perhaps; instead I let all the anger and tension go and had smirked at her cockily before stripping down to my, or should I say _her_, underwear, successfully drawing Emmett's stunned and slightly lustful attention. I had been created to be as aesthetically pleasing as possible, though I still haven't figured out what that had to do with being a good soldier; and while I knew I hadn't been much to look at right then considering what I'd been up to in the weeks before I'd met the Cullens, I still wasn't a bad looking chick, skinny or not. Despite the fact that Emmett was completely devoted to Rosalie, he was still a guy, and a teenage guy at that. It was pretty much a statistical impossibility that he wouldn't look at a nearly naked girl stood right in front of him and that he wouldn't have some sort of positive reaction to it. I'd been playing on that, gambling on it really, and that gamble had paid off. A little over-the-top acting and a seemingly successful attempt at flirting and I had succeeded in getting Rosalie back tenfold. She'd seriously wanted to kill me and there had been two extra cherries on top of that particular sundae. Dr. Cullen, ever-patient, unflappable Dr. Cullen had snapped at her and, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Jasper had been staring at me, his gaze dark. That hadn't been unusual, of course. His sister and I had just caused a scene during which I'd taken off almost all the clothes I had been wearing - every single member of the family had been staring and he was a teenage guy, just like Emmett. His staring was an inevitability. I didn't like that kind of attention directed at me and had a feeling that would have been the case no matter what my origins, but I hadn't minded his eyes on me. I'd even liked it a little, which confused me ... badly.

I hadn't even tried to hide how smug I felt when Emmett had to physically drag Rosalie out of the house after Dr. Cullen demanded that she leave to cool off. My plan had been a roaring success and all I'd really wanted to do when it had been over and done with was put the clothes back on. Exhibitionism wasn't a hobby of mine, just something I'd used to make a point; but rushing around and scrambling to pull them over myself would have completely ruined that point and wrecked the image I'd created. I hadn't been about to do that and leave the door open for any of the others to start in on me. They had needed to be unequivocally aware of the fact that I would not take shit from anybody, so I'd had every intention of standing around in those skivvies with my hands on my hips, glaring savagely at all of them until they pissed themselves. Dr. Cullen, however, had then very politely requested that I put the clothes back on, and I had suddenly felt the need to comply. The need hadn't arisen because I was sorry for what I'd done or even from a compulsion to follow orders but he had been very gracious to me, if annoying and sanctimonious. Even so, I, unfortunately, liked the guy, and I hadn't wanted to be any more disrespectful than I already had been; therefore, I had gathered up the clothes and leisurely put them back on. I had to preserve the notion that I was still the one in control, after all.

Once I was covered up, Mrs. Cullen had sent Alice, Edward, and Jasper to their bedrooms and she and her husband had asked to speak with me. I had been wary about it but hadn't argued, not seeing the point, and preparing myself to defend what I had done. Surprisingly, they weren't angry about that. _They_ apologized to _me_, which was something I most definitely had not been expecting. What they had wanted to talk about, however, had infuriated me far more than anything their blond bitch of a daughter could ever have done. They had asked me how to get in touch with my nonexistent parents and then threatened to call Child Protective Services when I refused. They couldn't have possibly known what kind of danger they were threatening to put me in, but the fact that they'd felt they could take it upon themselves to decide what was best for me beyond keeping me out of a storm was so damn maddening, pretentious, and frustrating! I'd felt so hurt, betrayed, and angry I couldn't see straight. I hadn't hated anyone that much in a long time and had let them know it before I left them behind, begrudgingly taking the boots, coat, and socks before I did.

oOo

**A/N:** Alright guys, I realize this was a little repetitive from chapter 7 but like I always say. I have a reason for everything I write. It is very important for all of you to understand how Bella thinks and why she reacts the way she does because it is essential to the development of the plot. :)

So what do you think of Bella's inner monologue? I would love to know!

Up next ... how she ends up in Louisville, some of her adventures in the weeks after she left the Cullens, and her reaction when Jasper shows up at The Finish Line.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters. Also, I did not come up with Jasper as the God of War or of Peter 'just knowing shit'. Those ideas belongs to IdreamofEddy and I thank covenmama for telling me this.

**A/N: **Thank you to my beta Laurie Whitlock, my pre-readers AlwaysJASPERsLOVE, Shadman, and Shelljayz, my beloved sister. Thank you to shirleypositive72 for her story The Lists and the Facebook group she created for it. Thank you also to hiddenfanggirl16 for making sure I didn't get any details about Louisville wrong.

Holy crap guys! 212 reviews! How crazy but so incredibly awesome is that? Thank you so much for that! I can't tell you how much I appreciate everyone who has read, followed, favorited, and reviewed. You are all amazing and you make me so happy.

I have added pictures of Peter and Charlotte to my photobucket album for Longing if you want to check them out since they will be playing an important part in the story. The link can be found in my profile which sadly still remains unfinished.

I may or may not be updating next Sunday. That week is finals week and even though chapter 15 is already written it still takes me a fair amount of time to prep it for posting, and I really need to study. I should be done with testing by the 12th which means that if I don't get chapter 15 to you next Sunday, I'll probably get it to you that Wednesday. After that, posting will go back to normal.

I suppose now we should see what Bella has _really_ been up to since she left the Cullens, hmm?

**Chapter 14**

oOo

_September 2080_

BPOV

I hadn't had a particular location in mind when I left Forks. The only thought in my head had been that I needed to put as much distance between myself and the Cullens as possible. I had traveled for five days straight, sometimes hitching a ride from semi-reputable looking travelers and at others stooping to picking the pockets of obviously wealthy people so I'd have the money to buy bus or train tickets. I wasn't proud of that but what's a fugitive genetically-engineered girl to do? At least I drew the line at stealing cars. That's gotta count for something.

When I hit Louisville, Kentucky, I knew it was the right place for me to stop for a while. It was a big city with a population of over one million people. One sixteen year old girl could easily get swallowed up there. Plus, it had a major shipping port, an international airport, and two freight railroads that could make for easy means of escape if I came to need one, as well as a shitload of stuff to keep me busy if I ever found myself to be bored. Considering I didn't need to sleep much and was in constant need of engaging myself in some sort of activity, boredom was an inevitability. Between the museums, galleries, university libraries, parks, performing arts options, sporting events, and indie scene my boredom was sure to be easily alleviated. Those things weren't the true selling point though. Churchill Downs and the fact that it was home to the Kentucky Derby was. I liked horses. I'd never had much opportunity to be around them, but I liked them and had hoped that spending time in Louisville might give me a chance to change that.

I had gotten myself settled in a cheap motel room that first day, eaten some greasy but delicious diner food, and procured necessities in the form of a toothbrush, toothpaste, decent shampoo and conditioner, and a couple changes of clothes and underwear, sadly all procured from the fruits of my pick-pocketing. My hypocrisy knows no bounds, I'm aware, but there is a certain amount of work involved in the bump, grab, and slip technique and the pressure distraction so that makes up for it a little, right? I am so going to hell.

After that I made my way to Churchill Downs to watch the race horses being trained. Quite frankly, it was awesome and I knew I wanted to learn how to ride, so I'd found a stable boy with a weakness for pretty girls and flirted shamelessly, or attempted to and had apparently been successful, since he had agreed to give me a lesson after his boss left later that afternoon.

Horseback riding is a tough thing to learn and master. It takes time, patience, love, and devotion, and I have an extraordinary amount of respect for the people who have those qualities and have used them to do precisely that, but seeing as I'm not your typical human it only took me a day to refine my skill to the point that it looked like I'd been riding for years. The trainer for a thoroughbred racehorse named Wildfire had seen me riding during my second lesson with Jeremy the stable boy. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have noticed me because Churchill Downs was chock full of talented riders, making me in no way a rare commodity, but Wildfire had spooked and managed to jerk free of the stable hand that had been leading him back to his stall later that day. He'd been tearing through the stable at a dangerous pace both for him and everyone else, but the second he'd come across me he calmed right down and nuzzled into me. Maybe we really had formed an instant connection or maybe I had some horse DNA intertwined into mine that spoke to him, the idea of which bothered me, but I loved Wildfire immediately. His trainer, Jack, had been impressed by this, explaining that Wildfire was a bit willful with trust issues - my soulmate if that sort of thing existed - and if he could just find someone who could get him to respond, he had the potential to be the next Triple Crown winner. He'd remembered seeing me ride and had asked if I'd wanted to give riding Wildfire a shot in the hope that I might be able to get him to respond just as well on his back as I had on the ground. I had agreed without hesitation. I'd focused on all the things Jeremy had taught me during our lessons, all the things I'd read on horses at the library, which was a lot considering I could read 20,000 words per minute, but mostly I'd just focused on Wildfire and felt. Under my direction, Wildfire had ridden like a dream so Jack had offered me a job as his exercise rider on the spot. Jeremy the stable boy had been none too happy about that. While he hadn't been looking to snag a job as an exercise rider with Wildfire specifically, it was something he had been working toward for a year but I wasn't going to turn down a job I knew would make me happy just because it hurt his feelings. The longest I'd ever stayed in one place was five weeks, so when I left he had a decent shot of taking my place.

I'd worked from seven o'clock in the morning to three o'clock in the afternoon five days a week. In the morning, I worked with Wildfire and three other racehorses named Flame, Delight, and Indy for a few hours. After that I did whatever else Jack needed done whether it was mucking stalls, hosing down the horses, cleaning out the horse trailer - you name it I did it.

It wasn't glamorous but it was the best job I had ever had, and my most favorite by far. However, at the end of that first week it became very clear that I needed to find something to supplement my income if I didn't want to have to relocate from my cheap motel to an abandoned building of some sort and live solely on peanut butter. I hadn't been thrilled with the abandoned building idea but it was something I had done before and could do again. It had been the strictly peanut butter diet I couldn't do. I had still been recovering from my hibernation and I'd needed to gain weight in the worst way. It's true that peanut butter is chock full of carbohydrates and protein, but a girl needed more than that to survive on ... well, maybe not but I _wanted _more than that, more variety, and had felt I deserved it. I'd done a pizza delivery gig recently and had no desire to do one again so soon nor had there been many other options readily available to me at the time; plus, I needed cash sooner rather than later. The cheap motel with the distasteful kind of retro wallpaper and cheap, porn star, faux-silk sheets required payment in advance and the sleazy manager had been riding my ass for a couple days for the money I owed. The only reason he hadn't kicked me out already was because I batted my eyelashes at him every time the opportunity presented itself. I never flirted beyond that or said anything remotely sexual because that's not the kind of girl I am, but even doing that made me sick to my stomach.

There was only one thing I could think of that could score me the kind of cash I'd needed that quickly: poker. With an IQ as high as mine and an eidetic memory to go with it, I was a damn good card player. I could win both by cheating and by playing honestly; I preferred going the honest route, but it all depended on the circumstances. Were the people I was playing with shysters or were they honest? How much of a bind was I in? It was all about weighing and measuring. I didn't like it but it was what it was.

I'd managed to rake in $3000 with a clean conscience that night and it had been at that card game that I'd met Christian.

_-Flashback-_

_"Hey!" I heard an earnest male voice call out. I recognized it as belonging to one of the guys I'd just played cards with but dismissed it, tucking a third of the money I'd won into my bra, another third into my purse, the final third having already been tucked snugly inside one of my over-the-knee boots. I'd had to dress up a little in order to look old enough to get into the bar to play the poker game, which included wearing mildly-slutty clothes and makeup I usually didn't bother with or need._

_"Hey," the guy called again, coming up quickly behind me. I had no idea why he would want to talk to the chick who'd just cleaned him out but out of the corner of my eye, I could see that he was genuinely serious about it. His arm was extended like he planned on grabbing me to get me to stop._

_I sidestepped him, and he'd been moving so fast that he lurched passed where I'd been, grabbing air instead of me. He stumbled but when he regained his footing, I had turned to face him, my elbow leaned casually against the bar as I eyed him; my gaze was even and measuring as I waited for him to tell me what it was he wanted._

_"Hi!" he said with a bright grin. He had been the youngest one at the game outside of me, probably 23, with dark hair and green eyes, standing at a lanky 5'11", and he was hot. I noticed this but was strangely unaffected by it. "I'm Christian."_

_I lifted a brow quizzically, still waiting. He seemed like a nice guy but I was still aware that that didn't necessarily mean he actually was, and his earnestness reminded me eerily of Emmett. I didn't want to deal with anyone or anything that reminded me of the Cullens._

_"And you are?" Christian prompted patiently, his grin widening a little._

_"The girl who just kicked your ass at poker," I answered with a slight smirk before I began examining my nails disinterestedly._

_Christian chuckled and moved closer to me, resting his palm next to mine on the bar and straightening his elbow so he was looking down at me. There wasn't anything predatory in his body language or gaze but there was still something about him that gave me the impression that he wanted something I wasn't interested in giving. "That's actually what I want to talk to you about."_

_"You want to relive the crippling humiliation of losing to someone whose fun bags are on their chest instead of between their legs?" I asked, hoping the crassness of my language and the innuendo might get him to go away. There was also the chance that it would just make him more interested but when it came to men I didn't have much clue what I was doing so, essentially, I was just winging it._

_Christian was one of those guys that wasn't turned off by that kind of thing but he didn't seem grossly turned on by it either. Mostly, it appeared as though it amused him but not in a condescending way, and I found that attractive._

_"Uh, no," he said, his smile still good-natured, "I'd really rather _not_ relive that."_

_"I would get to point if I were you," I urged impatiently. I had to get some of this money to Sleazy Landlord and try to get some rest. The last time I'd slept was twelve days ago, when I'd been staying with the Cullens and my fatigue would soon be getting to the point of being unmanageable. Ordinarily, twelve days wouldn't have been such a big deal but going into a nontraditional hibernation had fucked me up more than I had anticipated it would. _

_"See, that is exactly what I need," he told me, his tone both serious and giddy. "Tiny little thing like you walks into this shady place, sits down with a bunch of hard lookin' sons of bitches-"_

_"You don't look particularly hard to me," I interrupted smartly, not realizing both ways that could have been taken until after it left my mouth. It took a lot of self-control not to blush and act as though I had known exactly what I'd said when I said it, but I managed it._

_I expected Christian to be offended by this but he didn't seem to be. "Get to know me and you might change your mind about that honey," he responded lightly but the innuendo was still there. "Anyway, like I was sayin', tiny little thing like you walks into a place like this and holds her own the way you did ... damn, you didn't just hold your own, you might as well have owned all of _us_ without even tryin' or bein' a bitch about it unless it was necessary," he let out a low whistle. "You any good at slingin' drinks?"_

_"Why do you ask?" I hedged._

_"'Cause I'm short a bartender," Christian explained, eying me appreciatively. "You gotta have a certain kind of mettle to work my bar and honey you got it."_

_"You want me to work here?" I queried, my voice slightly incredulous. Louisville really had been the right place for me to stop. Everywhere else I'd lived, I'd had to fight tooth and nail for work of any kind but here people were offering me jobs left and right._

_"Not here, no," he said. "This place is a friend of mine's. The bar I run is called The Finish Line just a few blocks over. I just come here for the poker," he finished with a grin._

_"I already have a job," I told him._

_Christian shrugged and pulled something out of his pocket - a napkin emblazoned with the name of the bar he said he ran. He jotted his number down across the top and closed my hand over it. "The hourly is pretty decent, the tips are good, would be great for someone like you, and it would give you an excuse to beat the shit outta people that annoy you which seems like somethin' you might be into. Just think about it and give me a call."_

_I stared at him suspiciously, "How do I know this isn't just some lame, bullshit attempt to give me your number?"_

_His grin brightened. "You don't," he said simply, "but you'll never know for sure if you don't call."_

_I rolled my eyes, never giving him any indication of which direction I was leaning and left the bar without turning back to give him a second glance._

_"You never told me your name!" Christian called out as I walked away._

_I just lifted my hand high enough over my shoulder for him to be able to see me wiggle my fingers in parting._

_-End Flashback-_

I hadn't really needed to get another job after that. I'd earned myself some clout with those "hard lookin' sons of bitches" after I'd wiped the floor with them fair and square, and they'd told me about a couple underground games that went on there in Louisville. One night a week of shut-out Texas Hold 'Em would have been enough to keep me well in the black while I continued working my dream job with shit pay. If I'd chosen not to go that route, and poker really wasn't my favorite thing to do, there was the race track. I had been there to observe enough, had a sharp and analytical enough mind to devise an accurate algorithm that would predict which horses would win races, plus an innate sense of which horses had the heart and gumption for it. A few well-placed bets would have had me set for a good long while. I had still planned to do that, and had, but I needed something to keep my mind occupied. I could read all the books in the world, watch all the movies, see all the plays, and listen to all the indie music, but I needed to be distracted by people and not the refined kind.

Everywhere I looked, I saw _him_... Jasper fucking Cullen. The smell of the leather of the saddles I used to ride Wildfire, Flame, Delight, and Indy and the hay in the stalls of the barn all reminded me of him. If I saw a flash of honey blond I found myself craning my neck so I could reflect on how imperfect it was in comparison to his. I passed by an antique jewelry shop once that'd had a startlingly clear golden topaz pendant that was on display. Looking at that pendant felt like looking into his eyes for a moment. When the moon shrank down to a silvery crescent, the only thing I could see or think about were the scars inlaid on his pale skin and the overwhelming curiosity to know how they had gotten there and what they would feel like underneath my fingertips. When I closed my eyes, I saw his face, the broad lines of his shoulders, the fullness of his lips, the sadness in his guarded golden eyes. During the rare times I had slept, he was in my dreams. I was a person with a lot of ghosts sticking around to spook me and probably always would be, but never in my life had one person haunted me the way Jasper Cullen was haunting me. It wasn't a nightmarish kind of haunting but I still hated it; therefore, I hated him. The way things had ended between his parents and I hadn't really done much but exacerbate those feelings. I was constantly annoyed, keyed up, and, strangely enough ... itchy, but it wasn't a skin-deep kind of itch. It was an itch I felt in my bones and it made me want to crawl out of my skin. It didn't help that my chest felt strange either. There was a tightness there that was unfamiliar and I knew it had nothing to do with poor health, but I couldn't figure it out.

So I'd taken that job at The Finish Line, giving Christian the name Paige Donnelly, in addition to my job at Churchill Downs at which I was known as Kristine Hastings, to get my mind off of Jasper Cullen and the rest of his family and it had worked, sort of. It had started to work, _would _have started to work, when one night just three weeks after I'd started working there, as my back faced the front entrance to the bar, my whole body had lit up like a damn firework. Someone had been watching me, I could feel their eyes like a caress on my skin, the strange tightness in my chest easing. It fucking unnerved me but I kept my cool, finished taking the order I'd been writing down, turned around, and there he was ... Jasper fucking Cullen ... in my bar ... in Louisville ... staring. at. me.

_What. The. Fuck? What the hell is he doing here? How did he find me? _had been the questions running through my head, but I had tried my best to look as though I was unaffected and unsurprised by his presence. Part of me had wanted to storm up to him, shove him against the wall, wrap my hand around his throat, and threaten to crush his trachea unless he answered every single one of the questions flying through my head to my satisfaction. The only thing that had stopped me was that I hadn't wanted him to know just how much he'd gotten inside my head. I had been afraid that one look at me with those damn penetrating golden eyes of his, always filled with smoldering, irresistible challenge, would give me away. He'd have known that he was practically all I'd thought about in the time we'd spent apart and I would have been fucked, but our eyes had met anyway.

Just like that time at the breakfast table I found the whole world fading away from me until he was the only person that existed, and when I shook myself out of it he looked absolutely furious; and, also just like that last time his eyes had gone black with that anger. It had made me wonder if the same thing had happened to him or if he just thought I was a creepy stalker bitch for staring at him. If that had been the case, to save face, I'd taken a cue from the last time it had happened, cocking an eyebrow at him before he could do it to me as if to ask, _What the fuck are you staring at?_

He'd just smirked at me, found a table and ordered a drink from another waitress named Ashley, who had fallen all over herself in her haste to be the one to serve him even though he had been sitting in _my_ section. I'd found myself both annoyed and relieved by this but hadn't had a chance to ponder over it before a fellow bartender named Sharon had readied herself to ream me for slacking for 2.5 seconds. I hadn't let her get far into said reaming, immediately setting about busting my ass taking drink and food orders from the new influx of customers that had just flooded the bar, including switching sections with Ashley so I wouldn't have to deal with Jasper. She may have gotten to him first and served him that initial drink but if that had remained my section, I would have been responsible for any refills or food orders he might have placed. I hadn't wanted to deal with that or him. I'd wanted to stay as far away from him as possible, in fact, and Ashley had jumped at the opportunity to swap sections with me so fast I'd actually been embarrassed for her. The dude was good-looking but shit, he wasn't _that _good-looking.

I'd spent the next two hours of my shift concentrating on my work like I'd never concentrated before, which had been hard. With my intellect, reflexes, and memory, I could process a lot of information at once while keeping myself from tripping over air or bumping into people so really, bartending and waitressing didn't take much focus or concentration for me. I'd put my all into it anyway, hoping I might be successful in spite of that. I hadn't been.

For the whole of those two fucking hours, while I had been efficiently weaving in and out of drunken customers on the floor delivering food and drinks like it was some sort of ballet, mixing drinks behind the bar like a juggler in a circus, telling off shitfaced douchebags for playing grab-ass, and picking up the slack for Sharon and Ashley, I could feel Jasper's eyes on me. I had tried to resist looking at him but there had been times when I just hadn't been able to help myself, and every time I'd looked he had been looking right back. We'd lock eyes, our gazes always challenging, he'd smirk that annoying ass smirk of his, I'd get all warm and tingly ... and fucking pissed off. The fact that an endless parade of drunk, shameless bitches kept throwing themselves at him throughout those two hours only annoyed me more. Seriously, he wasn't that fucking hot! There had been a few times I had nearly gone over to one of them, snatched her up by the hair and told her to go rub her rotting crotch all over some other dude, but I hadn't understood that impulse nor had I truly given a shit. The only reason it even bothered me was because it was disgusting and degrading. It had absolutely nothing to do with him.

I had been behind the bar serving a particularly disgusting, lascivious asshole that was shamelessly trying to get into my pants when Christian came up next to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. Then he kissed me on the cheek and pretended to get possessive of me, giving the lewd jackass a scary scowl. It had been successful in sending the guy scampering off with his tail between his legs. Then Christian had proceeded to act as though he had saved me from getting hit by a car. It 100% completely fucking pissed me off.

He was an observant guy, it was part of the bartender gig, and I knew he had noticed I avoided touching people; yet, every chance he got, he was fucking touching me. There was also the fact that he'd hired me specifically because I could handle myself with guys like the one he had just run off, but in that last week or so he'd kept coming to my rescue like I hadn't been capable of taking care of it myself. That hadn't been the only way he had been treating me differently lately either. He was constantly up in my personal space, looking at me strangely, laughing when I hadn't said anything funny, but while all that stuff had been grating on my nerves, that night was just too much. I had never been one to let people slide when they had done something I found unacceptable, but I usually tried to be as nice about it as I could when I called them on it while still remaining blunt and to the point. I didn't know what was different about that night but he was pushing his luck; so I snapped, letting him have it, and I hadn't been sorry for it. Okay, maybe I had been, just a little. Still, because Christian was the one that couldn't take a hint I hadn't felt like I should be the one to apologize. At the same time, he really was a good boss and a decent guy, and I didn't want to lose my job for being a bitch, so I apologized anyway. He'd been understanding, forgiving me immediately and sending me on my break with a look that I was sure was meant to be sympathetic. Instead it just came across as pitying and condescending, two things I loathed. I couldn't help but wonder where the guy that had hired me all those weeks ago had gone.

The fact that Jasper had witnessed the whole thing, albeit from afar, had bothered me and it shouldn't have. I mean why did I care that the interaction between Christian and I probably made it look like we were a couple to him? I hadn't exchanged so much as a word with the guy. It didn't make any damn sense.**  
**

oOo

**A/N: **In case you didn't notice, I like horses. Actually, "like" is a fairly weak term to describe how I feel about horses. "Love" is probably not a strong enough word either. Therefore, I simply could not resist incorporating them into this story. :)

The names of two of the horses, Wildfire and Flame, were inspired by two horses of the same names from one of my all-time favorite TV shows _Wildfire_. The name Wildfire is actually going to be quite important later on. Anyway, I do know about horses though I am far from an expert; however, all the information I got about horse racing is from that show. I don't know how accurate it is but it is my homage to the show nonetheless. :)

Bella's ability to read 20,000 words per minute is my nod to Dr. Spencer Reid of _Criminal Minds_. He is absolutely adorable, even though his hair is _always_ a hot mess, and Matthew Gray Gubler is awesome in his portrayal of him. It helps that he's hot even in spite of the hair. :)

Next up is what was going through Bella's head during her time with Jasper in the alley. I think you'll get some interesting insight into her reactions despite the revisit to earlier parts in the plot. :)

And, as always, I would love to know what all of you thought. So review? Maybe?

Take care. Muah!


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters. Also, I did not come up with Jasper as the God of War or of Peter 'just knowing shit'. Those ideas belongs to IdreamofEddy.

**A/N: **Thank you to my beta Laurie Whitlock, my pre-readers AlwaysJASPERsLOVE, Shadman, and Shelljayz, my beloved sister who pre-reads and does a million other things for this story that I can't properly name. Thank you to shirleypositive72 for her story The Lists and the Facebook group she created for it. Thank you to hiddenfanggirl16 for making sure I didn't get any details about Louisville wrong, and thank you also to Ellie Wolf for the banner she made for this story.

My heart and prayers go out to all the families who lost loved ones in the tragedy in Connecticut. There are no words that can express the sadness of the events that occurred there and though I know it will be a very long time before any sort of healing begins, I hope that eventually all those affected will find some sort of peace.

Thank you so much to everyone who followed, favorited, and reviewed. I know I say this every time I update, but it means the world to me. I usually do try to respond to everyone's reviews but I just couldn't manage it for many reasons.

Sorry I didn't get this up when I said I would. My finals went well, but I wasn't where I was expecting to be on the Wednesday I hoped to post this. I didn't have access to a computer with internet, and I can't update from my phone, as cool as that would be. After that it was kind of a series of unfortunate events.

I changed my Peter, so the new picture is in my photobucket album if you're interested in looking.

So I recently discovered an error of mine. When I originally posted the chapters, in the doc manager everything was just the way it was supposed to be. However, the cut and paste option sucks so when I actually posted, everything went all screwy and there were things I had to fix. I wasn't very careful when I updated the chapter content and I accidentally posted chapter 4 twice. For those readers who came along after my screw-up, it, along with everything else that needed to be, has now been fixed, and chapter 5 is back up if you would like to go back and read it.

I guess we should join Bella on her break ...

**Chapter 15**

oOo

_September 2080_

BPOV

I had been immensely grateful for the break I was granted, particularly for the timing of it. I had needed to get out of that bar and away from Christian, Sharon, Ashley, and especially Jasper. Unfortunately, like the stalker asshole he was, Jasper followed me to the alley in which I had planned to spend my freedom from the eternally drunk. I had pulled out a cigarette I had no intention of smoking, but carried around anyway to aid in the illusion that I was 21 and not only 16. He'd settled across from me against the wall of the alcove that was far enough away from the bar that I could pretend both that it didn't exist and that I was alone, propping himself against that wall like spending my breaks together was something we had done a million times. I'd cursed him in my head with language that would have made a sailor blush, wishing he would just go the fuck away, but simultaneously wanting him not to.

He'd just stared at me, of course, and I had stared right back because that's just what we did. Then, for the first time since I'd met him, he'd opened that beautiful mouth of his and made some smart comment about how most people actually smoked on smoke breaks, and completely ruined the effect the silky, honey-smooth, distinctly Texan tenor his voice had on me. It had glided over my skin, bringing back the echoes of the slightly dirty dreams I'd had of him every time I had slept. Needless to say, the actual words he spoke had fixed that problem.

I'd tried then, in a less than subtle way, to get him to tell me what the hell he'd been doing in Louisville at my bar, but he had continued to pull that smartass evasive bullshit. He had then proceeded to insult me by calling me mediocre-looking. I knew I was pretty and I had never much cared about it, but when Jasper said he didn't think I was, it hurt, but only a little. Yes, I suppose it was only fair since I had insulted him first, but I didn't like how stupid things that had never mattered before seemed to pop out at me whenever he was around. It pissed me the hell off.

Another bout of staring had ensued, and I had tried, rather desperately, to figure out what had been going on in that head of his to no avail. It had been so goddamn frustrating! I had never in my life met anyone I couldn't read. Granted some people were a little harder to figure out than others, but unless he was angry, Jasper Cullen was a mystery to me and I didn't like it. His face had been unreadable ... until it wasn't, at least partially anyway. There had still been an element to his expression that I hadn't understood, but the darkening of his eyes, which I had seen and would have even without the weak alleyway lighting due to my crystal clear night vision, was a clear indication that he had been angry with me. Then he'd smirked at me like he was so fond of doing, but it was a different sort of smirk. It had started out as part of that unreadable expression on his face, and then it had morphed into something entirely different. It was something I was more than familiar with though. It was deadly, menacing. He was hunting me, just not in the way I was used to being hunted. There had been an element there I was _not_ familiar with, a look in his eyes that reminded me of the way he'd looked at me in the sexy dreams I'd had in which he had starred. My eyes had widened at this realization, and that time there had been no stopping my heartbeat from speeding up or the adrenaline from flooding my system, even though the change had been slight. Those reactions had been more out of shock than fear, but there had been a part of me that _was _afraid. I didn't cave to fear though. I had been conditioned until I no longer let it very early on in my life, so if he had been hoping I would cower like a little bitch he was sadly mistaken.

As Jasper stalked closer to me, he had studied me even more intently than he ever had until finally he had forced me back against the brick wall of the alcove. It hadn't taken a genius to figure out that it had been his intention and I _was_ a genius, so I'd known it when he'd gotten within a foot of me. I would have stopped him, I swear I would have. I hadn't wanted him to touch me after all; I never wanted anyone to touch me, but I hadn't stopped him because there had been a little part of me that maybe, kind of, might have, sort of wanted him to ... just a little. I still did not understand that, but I had comforted myself at the time with the knowledge that, while a little part of me may have wanted it, the majority of me had been highly looking forward to kneeing the jackass in the balls for having the gall to think he _could _touch me.

But then my back was against that wall, and his chest was pressed against mine, and I didn't fight him, I didn't flinch, and my skin wasn't crawling. I had _let_ him touch me. I'd still been tense as I waited for that last feeling to overtake me but then he'd leaned in close to my ear and purred, literally fucking purred, _"And for the record, if I _was_ stalkin' you, you wouldn't know it until I moved in for the kill."_

In accompaniment to those words, he'd run his nose from the skin behind my ear and down my neck until he'd reached my pulse point. His tongue had darted out to lick the skin there, his teeth nipping just hard enough for me to feel it and then his lips, which had been strangely cool, soothed where they'd grazed. At the same time, he'd placed his hands at the sides of my breasts, then stopped. It had taken a moment for me to realize that he had been waiting to see what I would do, and maybe I was wrong, but I thought perhaps he might have noticed the way I reacted to being touched and wanted to make sure I was okay with what he was doing. That thought had made my chest feel tight again, but in a different way. Even so, it was still in a way I didn't comprehend. Then again, maybe all that was wishful thinking.

I should have pushed him away, told him to stop. I knew it then, and I know it now, but I had been both physically and emotionally incapable of it at the time. If I had known the enormous pile of shit that decision would land me in not forty-eight hours later I might have found the strength to do it, but I doubt it. The thing of it was feeling him pressed up against me like that had been like a brutal punch to the stomach because it was only then that I realized just how starved for any sort of affection I was, particularly physical since it was something I had gone without my whole life. It felt so damn nice, so good, so fucking _right _that I nearly cried, and I had only ever cried once in all the time since I'd escaped. The only reason I hadn't was because I knew that if I did, he would stop and I needed for him not to. The personal revelation I'd had when I had been a guest in his parents' home five weeks ago that I didn't want to be alone had gotten me thinking over the time since. I had realized through much reflection that I had pretty much always felt that way and the sad reality was that it was the absolute truth. There wasn't anyone else out there like me, but with Jasper pressed up against me, his body covering mine and hiding it from the world ... for the first time, I didn't feel so alone and all the tension I'd felt left my body in a rush.

The fact that when he touched me electricity went crackling over the whole of my skin had done nothing to make me want to push him away either - it had actually only made me want to pull him closer, and when his hands gripped my hips, all of it: his lips, tongue, and teeth on my neck, his hands so close to my breasts, and then on my hips, it was driving me fucking crazy. I had been half out of my mind, dizzy, gasping, shivering, back arching. Next thing I knew, there was a wetness between my legs. It took me a second in the daze that I'd been in to figure out what that was and it made me angry as hell. What I had been feeling was desire. I _wanted_ Jasper fucking Cullen. I wasn't unfamiliar with desire, but it had never been anything but the artificial kind. For all I knew, what I had been feeling for him wasn't any different, but even so, I had never let myself get carried away by it. When you didn't like being touched, it killed the mood every time, but there I had been, pressed between a goddamned wall and a guy I couldn't stand acting like a total whore instead of the virgin I was. If I'd been angry before I was thoroughly incensed after that, so I'd called him a cocky son of a bitch, to which he had insisted he wasn't. The thing about that had been he wasn't lying which was yet another thing that screamed that he was dangerous. Maybe I should have been afraid or turned off, but all his honesty had done was make me want him more. My breathing had sped up, I'd gotten wetter and then he'd growled ... fucking _growled_. It wasn't right, it wasn't normal but hot damn! When he bucked his hips into mine, and I felt just how much he wanted me too, I couldn't hold back the moan it caused.

I had wanted to kiss Jasper then. I had wanted all the things I had never had before, but he had seemed to have a fascination with my neck. I hadn't minded though because the things he'd been doing with that tongue of his made me whimper. Then he had been touching my bare skin with hands that even I registered as abnormally cold, and my skin still hadn't felt like it was crawling. The electricity between us got more intense, heat searing my veins, and another moan left my lips. I didn't know if it was my moan that had done it, but he'd cursed and bucked, and his hardness had hit a spot between my legs I'd never dared to touch for many, many reasons and, _Oh. My. God_.

I'd gripped his shoulders after that, so hard I should have hurt him, but there had been no blood. He hadn't even grimaced and it had almost been like digging my fingernails into granite, though there was some give, but I was too far gone to give a shit. When he'd pulled away from me, I'd been confused, wondering if I had hurt him and just misjudged it or if my inexperience had led me to do something wrong. I had covered all those insecurities with anger, of course, which had turned genuine once I'd determined he wasn't hurt. Of all the times it would have been useful to be able to read him, that would have been it or so I'd thought at the time. In retrospect, I realize that a better time to be able to get inside his head was right before I left him in the alley. Knowing what was inside his head then would have saved me a shitload of trouble.

I'd been about to smack the shit out of him when he pushed me back against that wall, which I had pulled away from when he'd pissed me off. Then he'd smirked before he grabbed my ass, slid his hand down the back of my leg, hooked it behind my knee and hitched it around his hip.

_I am so in over my head, _I'd thought. I usually knew how to anticipate what would happen next in any given situation, but Jasper was unpredictable, a loose cannon, a wild card. I should have been trying my damnedest to neutralize the threat he'd posed, but the way he had been making me feel - I hadn't wanted to give it up yet.

I didn't have any experience with sex, and the desire I'd been feeling was driving me fucking crazy. I was convinced he was doing that on purpose. I needed something, but I hadn't been sure what it was. All I had known was that I'd wanted him to be the one to give it to me. I'd bitten my lip and shifted my hips as I tried figure out what that thing I needed was, and then he'd growled that fucking sexy growl of his and all of a sudden his finger was inside me, his thumb pressed to my clit.

It had happened so damn fast, and I hadn't been expecting it. It had been stupid of me not to though. That's the kind of thing that happens when you let a boy pin you to a wall, wasn't it? My eyes had gone wide with shock and just a little fear, which had pissed me off. There were very few things that scared me. It didn't really make sense that it would be one of them, but it had felt so damn good, and I hadn't wanted that feeling to stop; so I let go and went with it ... until the bastard decided _he _wanted to stop. He'd seemed kind of conflicted about something in that moment, but for the life of me I couldn't figure out what he would've been conflicted about. Do teenage boys even get conflicted about sex when they've got a perfectly willing girl pinned to a wall?

I hadn't been able to stand being so close to Jasper, having his hands on me, in me, without doing something. I hadn't really known what to do, but my hips seemed to develop a mind of their own, bucking against his hand, and, _Fuck!_

I knew enough about anatomy to figure out he'd hit my g-spot and that the pleasure of that, in conjunction with the added pressure to my clit, had made me cry out. I don't know what I cried out, but it did the trick because whatever had been holding Jasper back disappeared. He started to move that beautiful, scarred hand of his, and my God did he ever know how to use it.

He'd gone slow at first; which for the first time I was experiencing something like that had been a good thing I suppose. My body disagreed, but then, my mind and my body sometimes did. I didn't like slow at all. It had been the evilest kind of torture, making me writhe and moan against him in the most embarrassing way and yet it wasn't embarrassing at all because I had been so lost in the lust that it hadn't truly mattered. I'd been tempted to make him speed up but considering how out of control I surely was at the time, I probably would have broken his hand - with my head so clouded with want there had been no telling if I could have controlled my strength, and the last thing I had wanted to do was damage those talented fingers; so I'd had to find another way to convince him to do what I wanted. Unfortunately, what he'd been doing to me hadn't allowed for much rational thought. Thankfully, instinct had made up for that on that particular occasion.

When I'd mindlessly swung my other leg around his hip to get him to go faster, and he had tucked his free arm under the backs of my thighs, pressing me harder back into that wall, changing the angle of penetration and forcing his hand deeper inside me he hit a new spot that had made me gasp and suck my bottom lip between my teeth, my breathing so heavy it felt like I was barely pulling in any air. Jasper's breathing had been just as bad as mine, so I had felt like I had done something right even though I hadn't really done anything but let him touch me though that, in and of itself, was a pretty big deal.

When he'd hidden his face in my neck and breathed deep, I hadn't known what to make of it, but then he'd slipped another finger in with the first and finally picked up the pace, working my clit like a maestro does his instrument of choice. _All _ability to form coherent thought had vanished after that. Then he'd said he wanted me, pressing kisses across my collarbone that'd had a tender quality to them that all the other kisses he'd pressed to my skin had lacked, and there had been something in the honey-sweet tone of his voice. The cockiness was gone, and it was soft and sort of lost, like he had been just as unsure of what to do with himself as I had even though he clearly had experience.

When Jasper had started stroking me faster and harder, but still gently like he cared if he hurt me, the heat that had been coiling low in my belly tightened in an almost painful sort of pleasure and I made a decision. He was touching me and it felt natural, better than anything I had ever felt before. The likelihood of me finding that in someone again was slim, and after that night Jasper and I would never see each other again. I was always careful, always safe, always vigilant ... always alone, but for some reason I hadn't understood, and still didn't, as much as the guy bugged me, he made that loneliness disappear. I'd wanted that, even if it would only be for a few minutes - to feel as though I belonged somewhere. I had wanted to be held for just a little while, to shut off my mind that was constantly whirring with survival strategies and escape scenarios, and just feel. I wanted to feel _him_ and I was so close to losing control. He was _making _me lose control. As much I wanted what he was doing to me, I couldn't help but hate him some for taking control away from me.

I'd expected him to be happy when I had told him he could have what he wanted, that he could have me. It had been a big and difficult decision for me to make and, badass soldier that I was, it had taken a lot of courage for me to say those words to him, and even more to touch him. I wasn't a shy kind of girl, but I most certainly had been shy about that, and when I had run my fingers over his stiff cock and gotten a better idea of just what I'd been getting myself into ... holy hell, shy had not even begun to cover what I had felt then.

_Is anything about him not perfect? _I'd wondered, but he wasn't perfect. No one was, and he was too big of an asshole to be even if there was such a thing. He'd still had me doubting for a second though.

But he hadn't been happy at all. He'd been frustrated and downright fucking furious with me. The look in his eyes had said it all, and if that hadn't been proof enough, he'd stolen his fingers away right as I'd been about to come, or that's what I imagined had been about to happen before he outright refused to give me what I had needed. What had been worse was that I had known he'd meant to end things between us once and for all, but I hadn't been ready to lose that yet; not so much the sexual part, though I had to admit I was a big fan of that, but the touching and the comfort and sense of safety it had brought with it. Why did he want to take that away from me?

When he'd pried my legs off his hips and stepped back, putting half a foot of distance between us, I had never been so angry in my life; still, the weird sense of grief I had felt at that loss of contact had taken me by surprise and that only made me madder.

Didn't he understand what I had been willing to give him? My body and my virginity, but more importantly, for those few minutes that he would have possessed me, I would have given him my trust. I didn't give people my trust ... _ever_. It wasn't something I could give if I wanted to remain safe and free, which meant I had been putting those things in his hands too. Didn't he understand what a big deal that was? Didn't he get how fucking hard that had been for me to do? Of course, he hadn't. He couldn't, but that hadn't mattered to me at the time. The only thing that had was that he had thrown it all back in my face. I hated him, and I had wanted him to pay for hurting me. I'd remembered my initial desire to pin him to the wall of the bar and threaten to crush his trachea until he answered every single one of the questions I'd had to my satisfaction. After the shit he'd just pulled, I no longer had any qualms about crushing his trachea only without giving him a chance to explain or redeem himself. He hadn't deserved that chance; so I'd used a simple maneuver to spin him around and pin _him _to the wall, finding the satisfaction I'd known I would when I pressed my forearm into his throat. Unfortunately, he hadn't seemed nearly as affected by it as I'd wanted him to be. The asshole never was.

When he had tried to insist that he hadn't been playing games with me, I'd called bullshit. For a moment, when we had locked eyes I could have sworn there was a pleading in them, but I couldn't understand what he might have been pleading for, so I had dismissed it, pressing my forearm harder into his throat in my anger and disbelief at his blatant, absolutely bullshit denial. He'd had a lot of fucking nerve to say that with a straight face. If he had thought I was stupid enough to buy that, he was horribly mistaken.

Once again, even though he'd swallowed uncomfortably, he hadn't been nearly uncomfortable enough for my taste.

Then he'd gained the upper hand again by flipping us so that I had been pinned underneath him, _again_, only that time I hadn't let him do it and fuck if that hadn't pissed me off even more. I hadn't thought it was possible to get that angry before I had met Jasper fucking Cullen, but he had certainly proven me wrong, especially since he'd stretched my wrists above my head in a grip I hadn't been able to pull away from. I didn't know how that was possible. Maybe in my fury I hadn't been thinking straight enough to escape his grasp. One would think it would be the opposite, but my body had reacted in a way that I had not been okay with. Being pinned between him and that wall again had reminded me of how much I wanted him despite how much I hated him, pulling that desire to the forefront of my mind when I had only just managed to shove it to the back; and when he'd cupped my breast, rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger I'd damn near begged him not to stop that time, not to pull away from me ... _never _to pull away, and I did not fucking beg. I had been trained not to. It showed weakness and weakness was un-fucking-acceptable. It was one of the things I actually agreed with my drill sergeants on. Vulnerability got you killed, and I had worked too damn hard to live a life that was mine and mine alone to die so easily. Jasper fucking Cullen could kiss my damn ass, yet I had still found myself wanting to beg him not to stop. I hated him. If that fucker got me killed I was going to haunt his ass until the day he died.

Of course, he'd felt the need to taunt me after that because he was nothing if not a jackass, rolling my nipple again like an asshole, making me want him more; and always, always managing to piss me off even more just when I had thought it wasn't possible. When he called me 'sugar' for the umpteenth time, I wanted to wring his neck or knee him in the balls or punch him in that pretty, pretty face of his or, better yet, all of the above because hearing that word rolling off his tongue in that fuckhot accent sent a flash of heat straight to my center. That was still a feeling I didn't quite understand, _all _the feelings he evoked in me I didn't understand, and I knew he'd had every intention of pulling away from me again. I hadn't been quite sure that would have been something I could take with all the confusing revelations I'd had in the past several weeks. My heart was still raw from them all, and I had sworn I would kill him if he fucked with me again; but then he'd licked my neck and I hadn't been able to think straight anymore even though my fury had still been boiling beneath the surface.

It hadn't been until his gaze met mine again that I had finally gotten it.

The pleading I had seen before had still been there in his eyes but a desperation had joined it, and I'd realized I hadn't been the only one begging for something. I wasn't sure exactly how I knew, especially since I had always had such a difficult time reading him, but somehow he had known. Not about my trust issues or their origins, obviously, but the fact that I was a virgin. He had been trying to give me a way out of the situation, even though I had made it pretty fucking clear I hadn't wanted one. I still haven't been able to figure out how he knew or how he could have gone from wanting me so much to suddenly thinking he wasn't good enough to actually have me - conceited thought, I realize, but there had been hints of that in his eyes as he'd looked at me, silently begging me to tell him to stop.

I couldn't be angry with Jasper after that; all of it melting out of me like ice cream on a hot day. It was just so fucking sweet and considerate, and he had seemed almost ashamed of himself, his eyes filled with a self-loathing that I hadn't been able to stand.

I had again felt that urge to comfort him as I had so many times before, to let him know that it had been okay, that he hadn't done anything wrong, and he didn't need to hate himself. That ever-present sadness in his eyes, that haunted quality, had spoken to me and torn at my heart. It hadn't been about me in that moment. Maybe it had been stupid to think that a girl he barely knew could make things better for him even if just for a little while, and it hadn't been as though I'd known how to go about doing it, but then I had found my mouth running away with me, demanding that he kiss me, and hoping that a connection so intimate might ground him. My voice had been authoritative - Jasper hadn't stricken me as the kind of boy who responded well to softness, like he wouldn't really know what to do with it, so I had played on that.

He hadn't obeyed the order, which was essentially what it had been, but I had succeeded partially in my goal. The self-loathing in his eyes had been erased by unadulterated fury, and he'd scowled at me.

I had just stared into those still dark eyes of his, forever challenging him, trying to _see_ him, to understand what had made him the way he was, and, for a moment, I _did_ see. I had seen a soul that had witnessed an unbearable amount of pain and suffering, who was having trouble trying to define who he was in the aftermath, and whose shoulders were bowed under the weight of it. He was aching and raw and fragile, and I didn't think anyone had really bothered to see it or even to look for it; not even the family who clearly loved him so much. Maybe they just didn't know what to look for or didn't know what to do with it, and I couldn't say I had much of a clue about the latter, but when it came to the former ... well, I had been living that my whole life. _I_ understood, and I had wanted him to know it. I'd just wanted _him_, and I had wanted him to know that too.

I hadn't been sure if I would be able to convey all of that with my eyes. I surely couldn't explain it with words, but he had seemed to understand, and it had left him speechless ... I think. At any rate, he'd kept that smart mouth of his closed; so I had used his silence as another opportunity to convince him to kiss me, but he was stubborn just like I was and refused to cave.

My tone had still been hard and demanding that second time. I still hadn't thought anything else would work, and I had noticed just a flicker of hesitation but he'd still refused. He was so goddamn frustrating but he had seemed just as frustrated with me and, despite the situation, I hadn't been able to help feeling a bit smug about it. I had refused to give up though, no matter how frustrated I had gotten, so I'd kept pushing; knowing I was winning on my third attempt when he'd inched closer to me and kept moving his eyes from my own brown ones to my lips. When he had licked that beautiful, full bottom one of his, I had known it had been time to move in for the kill. It sounds callous to use that phrase to describe that moment but I had finally broken through to him and would finally have been able to show him that I understood his pain at least in part; that though he irritated the shit out of me at times, I still thought he was beautiful and strong and worth it.

When I had asked him to kiss me that time, my voice had been soft and naked in a way because it was only then that I had realized just how much I'd wanted him to. I had needed to feel his lips on mine, to feel the comfort of knowing that there was someone else out there that felt like me even if we had come from very different places.

I saw it when Jasper's resolve shattered, had seen it in his eyes that he had needed me just as much as I had needed him in that moment. When he'd released my wrists from his grasp and brushed his thumb almost tenderly across my cheek before tangling his hand in my hair, I'd felt happy, dangerously happy, but hadn't been able to muster the strength to be upset or angry about it. I'd known I would hate myself, and him, for it later and I had ... I did. My God had I ever gone from simply hating someone to loathing them with every fiber of my being within a matter of only hours? I had, oh had I ever. If I ever saw Jasper fucking Cullen again I was going to make him wish he had never been born.

At the time though, dragging my hands up his chest and around his neck, burying them in his hair that had been so much softer than I had expected it to be, and playing with the curls at the nape of his neck had felt like heaven. So much so I'd wanted to cry again but was too looking forward to his lips on mine for those tears to gather and fall.

My eyes fluttered shut ...

oOo

**A/N:** As always, I would love to know what you think.

Next chapter - the conclusion of Bella's thoughts on her encounter with Jasper, and, now that the groundwork has been laid, the beginning of the series of events that landed her in the morgue! I'm evil for dragging that part of the plot out for so long, aren't I?


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters. Also, I did not come up with Jasper as the God of War or of Peter 'just knowing shit'. Those ideas belongs to IdreamofEddy.

**A/N: **Thank you to my amazing beta and wonderful friend Laurie Whitlock, my pre-readers, the awesome AlwaysJASPERsLOVE and Shadman, and Shelljayz, my beloved sister who pre-reads and does a million other things for this story that I can't properly name. Thank you to shirleypositive72 for her story The Lists and the Facebook group she created for it. Thank you to hiddenfanggirl16 for making sure I didn't get any details about Louisville wrong, and thank you also to Ellie Wolf for the banner she made for this story.

Merry Christmas everyone! If you don't celebrate Christmas, then Happy/Merry ::insert whatever holiday you celebrate here::! I hope that this time of year is going well for you all. If you are travelling, I hope you stay safe. Hell, even if you aren't travelling I hope you stay safe. I am in California right now with my sister (fantastic mother, fellow twi-hard, pre-reader, idea bouncer-offer, obsessive compulsive decorator and one of my best friends), brother in-law (aka smartass extraordinaire but without whom I would not have passed my interpersonal communication final, and admittedly awesome dad), and my beautiful, brilliant, adorable niece Charlotte Rose who will be 2 on Christmas Day. I get to see her on Christmas morning, and it's the first Christmas she will really understand the whole process, so I'm really excited. I hope you have just as much to be excited about! :)

Now, we head into the conclusion of Bella's thoughts on her time with Jasper in the alley, and beyond.

**Chapter 16**

oOo

_September 2080_

BPOV

Just as his lips were about to touch mine two drunken idiots stumbled down the alley and stopped not far from us. One of them immediately proceeded to vomit in great gushing spasms that looked almost painful. It made me angry because I knew that the two of them were customers of Sharon's and they were long passed the point at which they should have been cut off. I also remembered that they'd been buying her drinks all night even though she wasn't allowed to drink on the job. Christian had rules about that, and in order to discourage it, he docked the pay of the bartender guilty of it triple the worth of the drink, but if they did it on the sly and the drinks were paid for Christian had no reason to suspect anything when he compared actual alcohol inventory to inventory needed. Sharon was not afraid to flirt to get gullible drunk men to buy those drinks for her, and I knew she hadn't cut them off because cutting them off meant cutting herself off. If Christian ever found out she did this, he would fucking flip. He wouldn't dock her pay or give her a warning first, he would just flat out fire her ass. There were times I wondered if that was why she did it.

None of the vomit actually got on Jasper or me, but the presence of the two drunkards, as well as the sound and smell of the retching, brought me back to my senses. I had come to this alcove to be alone and to pretend that the bar didn't exist. Those two assholes had thoroughly shattered that illusion, reminding me why doing anything at all with Jasper Cullen; sexual or not, was a bad fucking idea. There was a part of me that had been a little sad that what had been going on between us had been interrupted, but no matter how much I empathized with Jasper, comforting him wasn't my job. He was annoying and infuriating, and letting myself go through with the idiot decision I'd made to connect with him was against the rules. No attachments. That's how my life worked, that was how my life would always work. I wasn't going to let him screw that up, so really our two crashers had done me a favor.

Jasper and I jumped apart like we'd been burned by each other's touch and I was glad because there had needed to be distance between us. If there hadn't been, I don't know what I would have done; if I could have stopped myself from pulling him against me and picking up where we'd left off, even though I knew what a bad idea it was. That pissed me off to no end. Being around him completely fucked with my head and I was always so close to losing control when he was near. As I've said over and over, I didn't like surrendering control to anyone or anything. I know I can't control everything, I do; but I could control my body and my decisions and his presence was messing that up. I hated him for it.

Still, I hadn't been able to bring myself to leave, and he hadn't left either. Even though we weren't looking at each other right then, I knew what I would have seen if I had been. There would have been a challenge in his eyes, daring me to be the first one to go, to break. I would _not _do that. If I could survive all the "preparation" Project Apotheosis had put me through to make sure I didn't cave to the enemy and give away valuable information in the event of capture, I sure as hell wasn't going to break because of a boy; no matter how beautiful he was or that he'd made me feel things I had never felt before. Of course, there was the distinct possibility that he hadn't been responsible for what I'd felt. Maybe my epiphany all those weeks before had just made me so desperate for some sort of intimacy that I'd only jumped at the chance to be with him because he was familiar to me but at the same time not. Either way I didn't back down from challenges, so until he made a move to leave neither would I.

As we'd silently waited for our unwanted interlopers to get a handle on themselves, I'd pretended that his hands on me had made my skin crawl the way it did when anyone else touched me instead of lighting me on fire. The continued ache between my thighs made it extremely hard to convince myself of that, but I managed it to a certain extent. It did take the edge off enough that I lost the urge to pin him to the wall again. I couldn't help but notice that he was having the same issue by the still somewhat evident bulge in his jeans, which made me feel a little better.

Thankfully, when they finally did leave I managed to stick to my guns and not re-initiate things between us, making me feel even better that I hadn't totally lost control of myself and my resolve. Until then, I hadn't been certain I would be able to hold to that decision which, of course, pissed me the fuck off. He hadn't made any move to pick things up where we left off either, and I was relieved. There was a stab of hurt and disappointment there too when I realized he'd had no intention of making a move though, and I, yet again, found myself confused.

I had tried to read him after that; once again hoping that I could find something in his eyes or body language that might tell me what he'd been thinking … and once again, I'd come up empty handed. It made me want to scream. Everything about Jasper Cullen made me want to scream.

Knowing that continuing to try to figure him out by silent observation would be a waste of time, I decided to see if conversation might give me some sort of clue as to what was going on in his head. All I really wanted was to figure him out, but he was like a fucking puzzle and I was missing 95% of the pieces.

Focusing back on the few words we had exchanged, I hadn't been able to pass up the opportunity to irritate him. Pulling from those bits of conversation, I tried to extract the information I wanted. Two birds, one stone.

Jasper's unapologetic honesty when I'd called him out on being a cocky son of a bitch after he'd made the, _"If I _was_ stalkin' you, you wouldn't know it until I moved in for the kill," _comment was the perfect segue. The fact that he'd both ignored my query and seemed unaffected by it had me spitting mad, as he was so damn good at making me. Why did he have to be so fucking frustrating? I had never come across anyone who didn't ultimately give me the information I wanted, but he seemed to be immune. Well, psychologically speaking at any rate … physically not so much, unless that whole pinning me to the wall business had been just as much of a fluke for him as it had been for me. The idea that I was just a warm body he could use to get off made me feel like shit, but then I remembered those times he'd looked at me all desperate and pleading; like he had actually given a fuck about my feelings. I pushed all that aside though. As much as it might have hurt me to think it, convincing myself he was just out to use me was so much easier than contemplating the alternative. It was less confusing, and there was more evidence to support that theory than there was to support the other one.

When he had asked me why I'd called him Texas, I hadn't known what to tell him. I'd lived in Texas a couple times, and while there were subtle differences between certain areas, there was still an underlying unity to their tone of voice. It was the same with most accents of people that lived in the same state or area, no matter where they came from. Some Southern accents had very evident differences depending on the state a person came from, but most deviations were nuanced in ways that only I, with my superhuman hearing, could pick up on. That was how I knew he was from Texas; most likely the Houston area since that was one of the places I'd lived, but I couldn't tell _him _that. I'd had to leave my answer vague and noncommittal. Most answers I gave were, and that's how I liked them to be.

When he'd asked me what I'd been doing in Louisville, I'd rolled my eyes. He wasn't supposed to turn things around on me, and honestly, what the fuck did he think I was doing here? He had just spent two hours watching me bartend and waitress, which pretty much screamed that I lived here. Not only was he annoying, he was a damn idiot. It did give me a smooth excuse to again ask him what _he'd _been doing in Louisville. A road trip taken by himself had certainly not been the answer I was expecting to hear, but if Dr. and Mrs. Cullen allowed romantic relationships between the teenagers living underneath their roof, it wasn't too far of a stretch that they'd let another of their children take a cross-country road trip alone.

Jasper's laughter had surprised me. I had expected him to get angry with me for insulting his parents since I so easily seemed to draw his anger out, but I was glad that hadn't been the result. I hadn't been in the mood for that shit. Personally, I hadn't thought what I'd said was all that funny, just truthful; but I was glad I'd said it whether it had been funny or not. That laughter of his was a deep, rich Texan honey, infectious and musical - beautiful, just like the rest of him. It had made me want to laugh with him, but I hadn't. I wouldn't let him know that I enjoyed hearing his laughter. Liking the sound of it didn't mean anything.

Asking if I'd moved to Louisville because it was so opposite of Forks was a question I couldn't really answer. Where I lived had always been based on whether a city felt like it might be a good fit which, in turn, was based on several factors: population size (sometimes larger was better, sometimes smaller was a better fit), whether or not it provided more than one handy means of escape (a girl had to have options), the availability of jobs where employers wouldn't ask many questions about who I was or where I came from, if there was an abundance of cheap motels or abandoned buildings (houses, apartments, warehouses) that I could use to squat in, and whether or not it remained absolutely random in comparison to the places I had lived previously. I tried to follow that model while never making an actual conscious choice about which state or what city I would live in next. I always traveled in a random fashion and stopped if a place felt right and fit those criteria. Establishing a pattern of where I chose to live was a huge no-no. Giving Project Apotheosis any chance of predicting where I might go next was asking to get caught. Most of the time, there had never been any sign of hunters in any of the places I'd chosen to live, though there had been a few close calls - like British Columbia. Even so, it was still better to leave things vague. If they had to search multiple cities under the suspicion that I might be in one of them based on that vagueness, the less man power they'd have to hunt me down if they actually managed to pick the right one.

There was some part of the truth I could tell Jasper though. A grain of truth could go a long way in getting someone to trust you enough to tell you what you wanted to know, and I _needed _to know what he was doing in Louisville. The likelihood of him just happening to take a road trip to the place I'd settled after breaking in to his house, liberal parents or no, was slim. I didn't believe in coincidence, I would be stupid to and stupid I was not, but at that point I hadn't known what to believe. I knew the Cullens had no idea where I came from; therefore, they had no incentive to try to send me back. As infuriating as Dr. and Mrs. Cullen's attempt to put me into the foster system had been, now that there was some distance between then and now, I could admit that it had only been a misguided attempt to show me that they cared about my welfare. That didn't make me any less angry with them for thinking they had the right to interfere in my life, but dwelling on it wouldn't change anything, and it didn't change that Jasper's presence in Louisville left me fucking unnerved.

Every word that came out of Jasper's mouth had me forgetting; just a little, that the point of our conversation was to pump him for information. There had still been a part of me that wanted to pump something else of his, and it was nowhere near his mouth. Plus, even though he was an annoying bastard who frustrated and pissed me off in equal measure, he was exasperatingly easy to talk to.

Teasing Jasper about knowing nothing about girls had been a way to irritate him, but ultimately all it had done was give him an excuse to be smug about how good he was at the things he'd done to me when he'd had me pressed up against that wall. The reminder of that had caused a physical reaction that I hadn't been able to stop. Why was it that when I was around him, all those hours of training I'd endured to keep my heart at a rate of my choosing went down the shitter? Maybe it had only been a slight acceleration, but it annoyed the hell out of me. I hated him.

I'd had to get him off that subject before I did something stupid, so I'd fed him that grain of truth and told him I'd moved to Louisville because of the horses. Of course, the jackass had to be sarcastic about it when I had told him, so I had picked up the cigarette I had dropped and started to twirl it effortlessly between my fingers. My other option had been to choke him to death, but I hadn't been in the mood to hide a body.

Picking up that cigarette had been a mistake, though I hadn't realized just how big of one it was until later that early morning.

Our conversation had taken an uncomfortable turn after I'd picked up that cigarette. Jasper had wanted to know why I'd had it if I wasn't going to smoke it, which inevitably led to him asking how I had managed to get a job at a bar when I was only 16. I'd tried to be evasive about answering, dumb even, but the fucker would not drop the subject. I was pretty sure he could tell just how uncomfortable it had made me too, but that hadn't seemed to matter to him. He seemed to take as much pleasure in irritating me as I did in doing it to him. While I was angry as hell with him, I had a hell of a lot of fun taking a jab at him for being a rich, entitled bastard to get back at him for it; whether he actually was one or not. I didn't think he was, but he didn't need to know that.

He hadn't taken the bait; instead taking it in stride and leaving me both frustrated and disappointed as well as feeling the standard anger he was constantly evoking in me. When he had told me he was impressed by the fact that I'd managed to land a job at a bar when I was only 16 it hadn't sunk in at first, so lost had I been in that anger. Also, I'd gotten distracted by that sexy accent of his. When his praise had registered it had confused me just the way everything about him did when he wasn't pissing me the fuck off.

I hadn't been pleased when Sharon showed up in my alcove not long after that. I had still been furious with her for her carelessness with the two men that had disrupted my time with Jasper. It was our responsibility to ensure the safety of our customers; instead, she had taken advantage of them. I'd had every intention of ripping into her for it, but before I had gotten a chance to she had started screaming at me for taking an extended break. I had been at the bar since five that afternoon and hadn't stopped working in the eight hours since whereas she had taken four breaks and a lunch with only six hours on the clock. When she then had the gall to accuse me of taking advantage of Christian and pawning my work off on her and Ashley, I'd snapped. I never fucking snapped! I was always cool as a goddamn cucumber, but that night I had been all out of sorts and acting completely out of character. There had only been one factor that was different - Jasper fucking Cullen. I blamed him for my shredded nerves, but in that moment, I had been way more angry with Sharon; so I let her have it, calling her out on the real reason for her sour mood ... Christian. She'd been in love with him for a long time, but he had never noticed and it had made her bitter. I was pretty sure that was why she drank so much on the job. I imagined seeing someone you cared about in that way and knowing that they didn't reciprocate was painful; that being forced to watch as that person flirted with other people was downright excruciating. Whether it was painful or not, it didn't give her the right to take it out on me.

I'd expected her to scream at me for calling her out but I hadn't been the only one acting out of character that night. When she had turned on her heel without so much as a snide comment, I knew something had been seriously wrong with her. She had always been fiercely hostile to anyone that dared to imply that she had feelings for our boss, and even though she wasn't my favorite person in the world, her relatively mild-mannered reaction to my direct, unyielding statement about it rather than a roundabout insinuation worried me.

I'd voiced my concern, more to myself than Jasper, whom I'd _nearly _forgotten was in the alcove with me. As much as I may have wanted to, it was absolutely impossible for me to forget him at all. The most logical conclusion had been that someone had slipped something in one of Sharon's drinks. Her drinking may have been unknown to Christian, but it wasn't to anyone else, especially the male customers whom she made a habit of bedding since she couldn't have who she really wanted. I had noticed that that night she had been pretty firmly making it clear to her usual hook-ups that she was keeping her legs closed, and the guys she generally fucked weren't the most upstanding of citizens. I wouldn't have put it passed one of them to drug her to get his way. Had the idea occurred to me before she'd left, a deep inhale could have confirmed it. My sense of smell was keen enough that I would have been able to discern if there were drugs in her system. I had to keep an eye on her. No matter our issues, no one deserved to fall prey to a sexual predator.

Jasper's indifferent attitude toward the situation both disappointed and incensed me. Didn't he care at all? It _was_ Christian's job to look after his employees, especially in a situation like that one. However, if I was right, Sharon shouldn't have had to deal with the trauma of being drugged and what could have come of that, _and _her feelings for Christian and his inevitable clueless insensitivity. Maybe telling him he had no idea how to love woman had been a cheap shot, but I hadn't cared at the time. I'd been so angry with him for not giving a shit, I'd gotten a little vindictive. Besides, it wasn't like he'd actually shown he had any clue about it.

I'd seen Jasper angry, several times, in fact. I was quite good at bringing it out in him, but I had never seen him so furious. When he pinned me to the wall again, his intent had not been sexual, it had been murderous. His golden eyes had again gone black and they were glittering with malice and a rage so powerful I'd never seen the likes of it before. When he'd spoken in that low, dangerous tone, telling me I didn't know anything about him, I knew I had taken things too far, and I had been so ashamed of myself because I had no right to make any judgments or assumptions about a guy I hardly knew. I wouldn't have wanted him to do that in regard to me. Shame had only been my underlying emotion though. As hard as it is for me to admit as I lie here in the morgue, my primary emotion was fear.

I have come face-to-face with many, many terrifying things in the near 17 years I've been alive; things no person of any age should ever have to face. I had not been afraid of most of those things, and if I had, I'd been exposed to them over and over again until I no longer was. Of all of those terrifying things, Jasper Cullen, in that moment, was the scariest one I had ever encountered. The leonine power I had observed in him the first time we'd met was practically radiating out of him, enveloping me in his fury like a suffocating blanket. It may as well have been his rage pinning me to that wall rather than his arms caging me in. I hadn't known what the fuck that was or how he'd so forcefully pushed the emotion he'd been feeling onto me, but that, in conjunction with the dangerous air about him, had caused a visceral reaction in me. All the trappings of fear had invaded my body from the increased heart rate to the dilated pupils.

His confirmation that I shouldn't have made assumptions was something I'd expected, but I'd already figured that out. I hadn't needed him to remind me of it since I felt bad enough about it already. Mostly though, the longer he kept me pinned to that wall and the longer I felt the effects of that fear, the more my anger boiled beneath my skin. I did not do fear. He would not change that. I wouldn't _let _him change that, so I had done what I always do when faced with something that scared me: I pushed passed it. Focusing on my anger instead, I pushed him off me ... or tried to. It hadn't worked the way it should have. Granted, it's not like I pushed the guy hard enough to send him through the opposite wall but he should have gone back a hell of a lot farther than a few inches away from me. It just made me angrier and I started spouting off about kneeing him in the balls.

A little more heated back and forth between the two of us and the next thing I knew, Jasper had thrown my words about knowing nothing about the opposite sex in my face. One sentence, one fucking sentence, and it was like we'd never been fighting in the first place. All the anger I'd felt toward him faded away and I hadn't been sure why. Luckily, he'd seemed just as confused as I was.

Still, confused or not, he'd pulled me close to him as though he hadn't been able to help it. It was an almost mindless gesture, and I had wanted to know why he'd done it. He had looked so vulnerable, just as he had when he'd practically begged me with his eyes to stop him from stealing my virtue, and I had thought that I might be able to see into him the way I had when he had gotten that way before. I couldn't.

I couldn't put off going back to work any longer after that, but I hadn't been able to resist fucking with Jasper one last time. We would never see each other again once I had gone back, after all, and I did so love to piss him off. Pretending as though I was going to kiss him and leaving him hanging; karma if you will, had seemed like the perfect way to do it. The fact that he had laughed instead hadn't bothered me. If that beautiful laugh of his was what I was left with to remember him by, I had been more than okay with that. It was far better than remembering him for how much he infuriated me.

I'd been more pleased than I should have been when he had told me he had lied about me being mediocre, and I had found it much harder to walk away from him than I ever would have thought.

oOo

The last hour before The Finish Line closed was bustling. It was a Friday and a payday at that, and all our diehard regulars had been eager to drown their sorrows or let loose by spending a good chunk of their paychecks on liquor. We also had a fair amount of college kids sticking around until the last second, trying to make the most of one of their last weekends of partying before they returned to school and had to hit the books.

I had been able to put my worries about Sharon to rest as soon as I walked back into the bar. She hadn't smelled of the distinct bitterness that would have been present if drugs were in her system. Other than being insufferably sullen and bitter, which was normal for her, she was fine. I had still kept an eye on her just in case. I liked having multiple things to concentrate on anyway so, unbeknownst to her, it was win-win.

The rest of the night had been normal as opposed to the rest of my shift ... until right after last call was announced fifteen minutes before we closed.

_-Flashback-_

_I'd just served Tommy, a sweet-natured man who had recently become a regular of mine after walking in on his wife in bed with his best friend. As I had placed his two fingers of single malt scotch in front of him, Christian had come up behind me. I could feel him there before he had cleared his throat and I wasn't in the mood for whatever it was he wanted. I was itchy and restless again, and my chest was bugging me._

_Taking a deep breath, I thought of Wildfire so the smile tugging at my lips was genuine and turned to face him. "What's up boss man?"_

_"Can we talk?" he asked, shifting his feet nervously. _

_I frowned, not having a clue what he would be nervous for. We'd talked dozens of times in the three weeks I'd worked for him. "Uh, sure."_

_Christian motioned for me to follow him to the kitchen. I cocked a brow at him, redirecting my gaze at all the customers trying to settle their tabs._

_"Sharon and Ashley can handle that," he told me firmly._

_I nodded and followed him to the kitchen without questioning him further._

_When he turned around to look at me, he was twisting his hands, "You see, that's one of the things I love about you - the way you can communicate without having to say a word."_

_"Alright," I said, bewildered, not sure where he was going with this. It was an odd thing to say._

_"Look Paige," he said, "I was wondering if you wanted to have a drink with me."_

_My eyebrows scrunched up in confusion, "Christian, what-"_

_The confusion must have read like a neon sign on my forehead because he didn't let me finish, "I like you as more than a friend Paige. I've liked you since the first time your Royal Flush beat my straight. I want you to have a drink with me just the two of us."_

_I frowned again, trying to process this. Christian liked me? How did I miss that? Sure when we'd first met there had been some innuendo, but I had thought that was just a ploy to get me in for an interview. Apparently not. "You want to have a drink with me," I said slowly. "Like a date."_

_Christian smiled, relieved, "Yeah, like a date."_

Shit!_ I cursed internally. _Shit! Shit! Shit!

_I didn't know what to do. I had never been asked on a date before. Christian was attractive and nice, but he was almost six years older than I was. Of all the reasons Christian asking me out was an utter fiasco though, his age was the one that mattered the least. I just didn't date. I could never be honest with any guy I decided to date and relationships were supposed to be based on trust. I couldn't trust anyone. It was one thing to tell a lie here and there for the purposes of survival though I tried my best to be more evasive than dishonest in most cases. It was entirely another to feed a person I could grow to care about a continuous stream of lies. The fact that any trust a guy might think he had in me wouldn't be genuine and that he wouldn't even know it wouldn't be fair, and that wasn't something I could do. Plus, as hot as Christian was, I just wasn't feeling the attraction he apparently felt for me. How do you tell a person that though? Maybe if I avoided it?_

_"I don't drink, Christian," I said, trying to sound apologetic and I guess, in a way, I was. Normally I wouldn't have bothered with niceties, but I was out of my element and my drill sergeants had not prepared me for this shit! If I had stayed at Project Apotheosis I'm sure it would have come up eventually, but I was shit out of luck at the moment. _

_"We can do whatever you want," he responded, succeeding in not sounding overly eager. Now that he had gotten through the initial proposal it appeared his nerves had dissipated, and his easy charm and confidence had returned. He was in smooth bastard mode._

_"Uh, right," I said lamely. "The thing is-"_

_Christian just grinned knowingly at me, "It's an open invitation, Paige. You don't have to decide right now. Just let me know."_

_I just stood there, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water which was exactly what I felt like. Christian chuckled before reaching over, gently pushing my mouth shut with his index and middle fingers and holding it in place presumably until I remembered how to keep it that way on my own. Then he ran his thumb over my cheekbone, a little smile on his lips, and left the kitchen to go help in closing out the bar._

_I shuddered and shook. Even the touch of only two of his fingers to my skin had me feeling like a horde of ants had crawled just beneath it and started clog dancing. Between an ungodly number of bar patrons forgetting polite etiquette about boundaries through the haze of booze clouding their brains, Christian getting awfully comfortable violating my personal space, and Jasper's wandering hands; no matter how good they had felt, I had been touched too much tonight. I was at my limit suddenly, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I would be sucked back into memories it would be hard to pull myself out of. I could fight it, for now, but I wouldn't be able to stave it off forever. I just needed to make sure I made it back to my shit motel before I was dragged under, especially now that I knew how Christian felt about me. I clenched my eyes shut, inhaled deeply, and tried to picture something happy. I had expected Wildfire to be the image that popped into my head. Instead, in vivid technicolor, was an image of the perfection that was Jasper fucking Cullen's face._

Dammit! Why can't I just get you out of my goddamn head?!_ I yelled at him. I had to yell at him. The fucker's smile got all smug so what else was I supposed to do? I felt the anger starting to creep up on me, but pushed it back. _ Anger is not good for you right now, Bella,_ I told myself, and it wouldn't be. It always started out as memories, and sometimes that's all they were, but other times they evolved into hallucinations. Intense emotion before I got into the throes only made things worse for me. I had to finish closing up the bar and head somewhere remote before I lost my shit. Though I'd initially hoped for the sleazy familiarity of my motel, it had thin walls, and I could tell things were going to be particularly bad this time. Bad meant loud, and I didn't want to draw that kind of attention. _If it's Jasper's face that brings you peace right now just go with it. You can let it piss you off later.

_Continuing with my deep breathing and doing my best to fight off the dizziness and headache that were the first signs of one of my episodes, I went back out front to do my part in closing up just like everyone else on shift. _

_It only partially registered when I heard Christian ask, "Where's Sharon?"_

_"She said she needed some air," Ashley responded. _

_"She say why?" he pressed._

_"Nope," Ashley said in annoyance. "She seemed fine though so can we all just focus on gettin' this place shut down for the night? I've got plans."_

_I noticed vaguely that Sharon slipped back inside a couple minutes after this exchange. Another couple minutes went by before the yelling started._

_A drunken brawl had broken out between two of our college boy customers and things were quickly getting out of hand. Ordinarily, I might have considered waiting for Todd, our bouncer, to handle the situation, but I needed something to help me focus a little better. I was losing the battle to hold off the memories until I got somewhere private and there was nothing quite like a little violence to sharpen your senses and wake you the fuck up. I did realize that it was an ironic and counterproductive strategy since the memories I was fighting so hard to keep in check were rooted in violence, but the two situations were so different from each other both in purpose and causation that they pretty much lived in separate hemispheres. That being said, I had them pulled apart in a matter of seconds, subduing one while Todd held back the other._

_The dizziness was getting worse, and the itching, restlessness, and tightness in my chest weren't helping. Still, I held fast to the struggling, drunk young man that had at least six inches and eighty pounds on me rather easily. My condition was deteriorating rapidly though, blackness creeping up around the edges of my vision and little snippets of horrors past flashed behind my eyelids every few seconds._

_I was relieved when the cops showed up to take the two douchebags to the drunk tank. What I was not expecting was to be wrenched away from the douchebag I'd been restraining, shoved up against the side of the bar face first, and to feel the cold steel of handcuffs as they were clapped on my wrists._

_"Paige Donnelly you're under arrest ..."**  
**_

oOo

**A/N:** Okay, ladies and gents, Bella has been arrested! Any theories as to why?

As always, I would love to know what you think!

Until next time ...


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters. Also, I did not come up with Jasper as the God of War or of Peter 'just knowing shit'. Those ideas belongs to IdreamofEddy.

**A/N: **Okay, so as always, there are many people I owe thanks to: my amazing beta and friend Laurie Whitlock, my pre-readers, the awesome AlwaysJASPERsLOVE and Shadman, who I also would like to think I can call my friends at this point. To my sister Shelljayz, who pre-reads for me as well as other things that are absolutely vital to the story. I love her to pieces. Shirleypositive72 is another wonderful person I always need to thank for her roundabout hand in giving me the courage to post Longing. I also need to thank Ellie Wolf for the banner she made for this story. She's not on this website anymore but she still deserves my thanks and recognition. Thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed. I love you all!

So my Christmas was absolutely amazing, awesome, and all the other adjectives in the dictionary that mean things along similar lines. Spending it with my mom, dad, sister, brother in-law, and niece was such a blessing. I got to see some of the rest of my family too, which was great, but the most amazing thing was getting to see my niece on Christmas morning. I loved that so much. Anyway, I hope your Christmas and/or other holidays were just as wonderful!

As the New Year approaches, I again hope that everyone stays safe and has a great time ringing in 2013. Happy New Year guys!

I suppose we should see how Bella is dealing with being arrested.

**Chapter 17**

oOo

_September 2080_

BPOV

_-Flashback-_

_Saturday_

"Paige Donnelly you're under arrest ..."

"Paige Donnelly you're under arrest ..."

"Paige Donnelly you're under arrest ..."

_The words echoed in my head, but I couldn't figure out if they were real because they weren't the only thing echoing there. Screams were reverberating off the inside of my skull. Were they mine? They usually were, and it almost always took me way too long to figure that out. Was the glass of the front window of the bar really pressed against my cheek? Were those really handcuffs encircling my wrists or a hallucination and the flashes of the too-tight iron shackles cutting into them what was real? Was it really a police officer restraining me or was it a hunter that had me pressed against the glass of The Finish Line? Was I even _in_ Kentucky? Had any of this been real? Had I even escaped Project Apotheosis or was this just another training exercise?_

_I didn't know. The hallucinations had snuck up on me, taken me by surprise, invaded my head with the dizziness and headache as the only warnings. It was a telltale sign of how stressed I was. I rarely let stress overtake me like this and of all the times to let it, this had to be the most inopportune. I blamed Jasper fucking Cullen, if he even existed._

_If I _was_ in Kentucky, I needed to fight against this, against being arrested; but how could I fight if I didn't know what was real and what wasn't? I couldn't._

_In my current state, I had no way of knowing whether or not I was capable of tempering my strength enough to avoid seriously hurting a civilian. I didn't relish the idea of going back to Project Apotheosis if I was, in fact, not still there, but I would go back there before I would sully my hands with the blood of an innocent. I had incapacitated a civilian or several in my time away from Fort Ares; the operative word being incapacitated, as in leaving no lasting damage. There was just no guarantee of that at the moment and I couldn't risk it._

_But whether or not I had been willing to risk it or if any of it was real soon became moot. The screaming in my head reached a fever pitch, I felt a warm wetness trickling out of my ears, and all I knew was darkness._

oOo

_When I came to, I felt like I'd been hit by a train and noted that I was in a concrete room with a single barred window and a metal door that also had a small, barred window inset in its upper half. The whole place screamed incarceration, which was confirmed by the bits and pieces I remembered from the night before; the ones that were relatively untainted by my hallucinations, which was exactly what they had been. There weren't words for how grateful I was that I didn't remember them ... well, I should say "relive" because I had a crystal clear recollection of everything. I had just learned a long time ago how to compartmentalize. Some of my memories were sneaky little fuckers that managed to slip passed the army that guarded those compartments in my head. Then again, they were the memories of a genetically-engineered super soldier, so it was to be expected that they'd kick my apparently mundane figmental security's ass I supposed._

_I found it amazing that a few hours of parting ways with reality made me feel so much worse than a whole month of self-induced starvation and sleep deprivation, but at least I knew for sure that I had escaped Project Apotheosis. All of that was real._

_I was okay with my current situation though. Well, as okay with it as I could be. Being in a jail cell was certainly a damn sight better than the cold sterility of my barracks at Fort Ares. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't thrilled with this turn of events, but I could work with it ... hopefully._

_I couldn't help but wonder how the hell this had happened. I didn't even have the first clue _why_ I'd been arrested. I had a healthy respect for the police, always doing my best to stay off their radar for many reasons, not the least of which was how selflessly they served and protected their cities. It wasn't so much that I was afraid of them. While it was true they were a potential conduit to a return to Fort Ares and Project Apotheosis, it was still highly unlikely that they would be. Then again, I'd never been arrested before. Obviously it was best if I avoided them altogether, especially the perusal of the inside of a jail cell, but apparently that wasn't always possible. Another jarring reminder that I wasn't fucking invincible._

_Here was the thing about the police and why my fears of their interference in my affairs weren't deeply-seated: the government couldn't acknowledge my existence. They couldn't say or do anything that might raise questions as to why a young girl was so damn important to them, and they would have to do precisely that in order to organize a manhunt that would even have a chance of being remotely successful at catching me. They couldn't weave some tale about me being some psychopathic murderous phenom without both alerting and warning civilian law enforcement agencies and the general populous about some of the things I was capable of. They knew I would make use of those abilities to fight for my freedom. It was what they had trained me to do, and they wouldn't be able to explain away the things I could do without at least some of the truth coming out. Even if people didn't recognize it as such, they would still wonder, still doubt, and the damage would have been done. Conspiracy theorists would have a fucking field day with it. Even seventy years later, our government was still trying to rebuild a precariously fragile nation, and they couldn't afford any egg on their face even if it was only a fleck or two of yolk. If I had still been in their custody and was proving to be the perfect little soldier they'd intended me to be it would be different, but alas._

_It was for those aforementioned reasons that they'd enlisted an elite group of soldiers, and I mean the very best of the best: highly decorated and vastly experienced Navy Seals, Army Special Forces, and Marines, to be part of a task force with the express purpose of hunting me down and bringing me back. Those soldiers had been written into the most classified government experiment in the history of our country and specially trained to do the actual hunting and bringing back while others with different skill sets used those skills for different purposes to help bring me in; or so I imagined. Civilians even _attempting_ to try to bring me in would go down something like one of those ancient _Three Stooges_ movies._

_But as powerful and as capable as I was, and as many things as I could do, I still had an Achilles Heel. The scientists of Project Apotheosis had left themselves a way to neutralize me in the event that I might decide to see if life outside Fort Ares was more palatable - a self-fulfilling prophecy if you ask me. I wasn't quite sure of the science behind it since there were so many possibilities that could have been responsible, but I knew that whatever insurance they had taken out against me involved some way of excruciatingly fucking with my nervous system. Every hunter I came across had a device that could enable this nervous system fuckery and, thus, had the potential to destroy me, which was why approaching the ones in British Columbia had been such a risky thing to do. If the tech didn't knock me out, it rendered me almost as normal as the next human, which at least made the fight more fair. The reason I say "_more_ fair" instead of just "fair" is because weakening my super abilities didn't erase my extensive training. Pretty much any style of martial arts you can think of, I have a black belt in and my muscle memory was off the charts. It also couldn't take away my IQ or my eidetic memory, so I still had an advantage, but the soldiers they sent after me were just as well trained, just as resourceful, just as good with weaponry and adept at battle strategy. The big difference between us was that because I knew the brass behind Project Apotheosis, they would have been hand-picked for their ruthlessness; willing to do anything to complete their mission no matter the ethical implications. They followed orders, they didn't question - the way I had been supposed to._

_Now getting arrested was still a very dangerous thing for me, but there were precautionary measures I could take to delay what would surely be an inevitable homing beacon announcing my presence in Louisville._

_I am referred to most commonly as a soldier both by myself and by whom I was created, but that was really not the most accurate description of my purpose in this life. Universal government asset is a much better definition. All covert government operations whether they be straight up military, CIA, NSA or any other agency shrouded in secrecy generally have militaristic roots and goals; therefore, I was not just to be used by the United States Armed Forces. Once I hit 18, I would have been fair game to whatever outfit had the greatest need for me; thus, I would not only have been the perfect soldier, but the perfect spy and covert government operative in general. Had this been successful, had _I_ been successful, it would have paved the way for the mass production of the fruit of the experiment of Project Apotheosis, but I digress._

_One of the key parts of being a great spy was the ability to develop and embody airtight cover identities and aliases. One of the things standing in the way of creating a truly airtight alias was a person's fingerprints. Having a unique set of fingerprints for each alias made those aliases virtually untraceable. Making a separate set of silicone fingerprints for each mission, the application of those silicone fingerprints and the time it took, the possibility of said application eroding ... all of it was too messy and up in the air. One of my brilliant creators came up with the idea of engineering me so that I could change my fingerprints into an entirely unique set at will or change them back to a set I had already come up with in the past if I concentrated hard enough. It felt like dipping my fingertips in hydrochloric acid, but it was handy. Another use for it: if I needed to break into something of someone's that required a fingerprint scan all I had to do was touch their hand and I could replicate their fingerprints. I could do something similar with my eyes. If something required a retina scan to deactivate a layer of security, all I had to do was get the person to look me in the eyes for three solid seconds, and voila! I am _such_ a freak! I had been born with a set of prints that were distinctly "mine" and were registered as such, or as Soldier Omega's rather, but it had been a while since I had let them regress back to that natural state._

_This particular ability came back to bite my creators in the ass for the most part, but there was one telling part about each set of prints I adopted that did not previously belong to someone else. There was always the same minute curve in one place somewhere in one of the prints. It was never in the same print on the same hand or in the same place, so it was almost impossible to find if you didn't know what I was, where I came from, what I could do, and what to look for. For all I knew, it was almost impossible to find if you did, but if I knew the people that were after me, and I did, they had developed some sort of computer program that scanned and processed every new set of fingerprints that entered every system in the world that registered shit like that. If any of my prints came up and the techies of the task force whose sole job was to catch me found them, and I didn't get out of dodge quickly enough, like if I was, say, in jail, that would cause a problem for me. Still, changing my fingerprints up would buy me some time. I just didn't know how much, especially since I had no idea if I'd been fingerprinted already. I needed to find out._

_I needed to find out why I had been arrested for that matter and I wanted my fucking phone call. I didn't have anyone _to_ call, but that was beside the point. It was the principle of the thing._

_So, like the mature almost adult I was, I staggered to my feet, swaying a little from the dizziness I couldn't quite shake, and started banging on the window of my cell like a maniac, careful not to pound hard enough to break the glass. There was a guard at the end of the hall, but he just stood there for a full minute, eyes forward, not acknowledging my presence except for the smirk on his jackass face. Finally, he sauntered down the corridor like he had all the time in the world before finally reaching my cell, giving me as decent a once over as he could through the small window and grinning at me like the pervy asshole he was._

_"Can I get somethin' for ya sweetheart?" he asked, his tone just as leering as his face._

You will not punch through this glass hard enough to break this fucker's jaw. You will not punch through this glass hard enough to break this fucker's jaw,_ I repeated over and over in my head, making it a mantra. He no doubt thought that since I was behind bars and he had the handcuffs that he somehow held all the cards. I decided to change my mantra to, _You will not send this fucker's nasal bone up into his brain.

_I was tempted to flirt with him until he opened my cell door just so I could knee him in the balls when he got close enough but knew that wouldn't help my situation any. Instead, I rolled my eyes, crossed my arms over my chest, and said, "You can arrange a meeting with your superior for me."_

oOo

_I was now sitting in an interrogation room in the standard uncomfortable, cheap, metal chair with my hands cuffed at metal bars on the sides of it. No interrogation room would be complete without a two-way mirror or the cheap metal table sitting in front of the chair I was occupying, and this one was most definitely complete. I still felt like I'd been hit by a train, and I couldn't get my head to clear. Normally, everything was sharp, clear, focused. Now everything was fuzzy, foggy. I was still aware, I could still process, but I wasn't at my best, and if ever I needed to be it was now._

_Currently, I was waiting for Inspector Roberts, the officer in charge of this particular police precinct, to grace me with her presence. So far I had been waiting for ten minutes. I knew that I hadn't been kept waiting because the head honcho was too busy to make time to see me just yet. Two people were standing behind that two-way mirror, and from the curt greeting one of those people had given the other, I knew Inspector Roberts was one of them. Most likely she was keeping me waiting to make me nervous. Ideally, the more nervous I was the more easily I would break when whomever they sent in to question me tried to get the answers they wanted. It was a simple yet classic interrogation technique. It was a tactic I was immune to, but they didn't know that. Now maybe if they'd cranked up the heat … oh wait, nope, still immune._

_Inspector Roberts and whoever else was watching me were not in a particularly chatty mood. Neither had spoken a word since just after they had stepped foot in the room on the other side of that mirror._

_I had a decision to make on how I wanted to play this. I could be the scared, confused girl, the angry, misunderstood chick, or I could be bored and apathetic. I couldn't do the scared, confused schtick. I _was_ confused, not only because I didn't know what the fuck I was doing here but because my damn head hurt. However, if any of these cops talked to my co-workers at The Finish Line that personality wouldn't jive. That left angry and misunderstood or bored and apathetic. I still felt too shitty to get properly theatrical so bored and apathetic it was. It wasn't a stretch. I _was_ bored._

_Luckily, before I'd been left to stew in this cheery little room, I'd had to have my mugshot taken. That was fun. The policeman who'd taken it had to bite back a chuckle when I struck a silly pose. A girl had to find some humor in the situation or at least make some if she didn't want to go batshit crazy before she came up with a strategy to get herself out of her current mess, right? But that wasn't even the best part. I _hadn't_ been fingerprinted the night before. Apparently, I'd been too much of a mess after I'd passed out to bother with booking procedures until I came to. I just barely managed not to do a happy dance or burst into song, _Sound of Music_ style. So the movie was over 100 years old. I still had respect for the classics even if people that randomly burst into song obviously needed to be on some sort of medication._

_Now I could have used a set of prints I'd "borrowed" from someone. Those prints were untraceable and flawless. They had to be if they were to serve their purpose in fooling fingerprint scans and whatnot, but that was something I would not do. There were all kinds of things that could go wrong with that tactic, not the least of which how ethically fucked up it was. Maybe I didn't know why I was in here, but it was still up to me, and me alone, to get myself out._

_Precisely one minute and seventeen seconds later a man in his early sixties, standing at 5'10" with white hair and grey eyes, walked in the room and sat in the moderately more comfortable, yet still cheap, metal chair reserved for the interrogator. He placed a battered briefcase on the table._

_"You aren't Inspector Roberts," I stated, the only emotion reflected in my tone certainty at this knowledge. That was the only emotion of mine that was relevant to the guy at the moment. He wasn't wearing the standard dress blues of the upper crust of Louisville's finest but a suit, and a lower end one at that. He didn't carry himself like a detective or any other plain clothes officer. Given that, he pretty much stunk of public servant. There wasn't anything wrong with what he did for a living. I just wanted to speak with the person in charge._

_The man looked amused. "No, I'm not," he agreed, folding his hands in front of him. "My name is Bradford Conroy. I'm your attorney. I would shake your hand, but I'd really rather not have to get on my knees or resort to contortion to do it," he said, gesturing to my restrained hands._

_"I wouldn't want you to throw your back out or potentially reveal your deeply buried kink, so we'll just say we did and get on with things," I remarked, taking a crack both at his age and his sex life. Honestly, he'd walked into that one. It wasn't that I didn't respect my elders, but this whole thing was a shit storm of epic proportions and my patience was pretty much nonexistent. I left sarcasm absent from my tone to soften the blow but the words themselves didn't exactly scream respect, so I supposed it was a fruitless effort. Mr. Conroy, however, appeared to be the opposite of offended. "Would you mind telling me why I'm here?"_

_"Are you familiar with the Safe Citizens Act?" he asked, studying my face carefully as he posed the question._

_Everyone knew about the Safe Citizens Act or they should have. If they didn't, they'd been living in a cave their whole lives. After the terrorist attack in 2012, a full scale investigation had been undertaken in an effort to understand how the hell the United States had been so thoroughly infiltrated. It had been discovered that hackers and forgers had gone in and created such airtight fake identities for each of their zealots that none of the systems our country had concocted to raise red flags in warning were tripped - the very same type I'd been talking about earlier and the basis for which I'm certain the idea for my changeable fingerprints was born. One of the many ideas behind the Safe Citizens Act was to ensure that nothing like that ever happened again. It strictly regulated any and all forms of identification, far more strictly and vigilantly than it had before if one can imagine, and gave the government the right to haul off anyone caught either making false identification or in possession of it to be questioned endlessly and punished mercilessly if found guilty of intent to harm. More often than not, "intent to harm" was a relative phrase; especially if the public got wind of the fact that a law enforcement agency had a person or persons potentially guilty of this in custody._

_I frowned. "Of course I am, but I don't see what it has to do with me and why I'm here."_

_Mr. Conroy sighed, pulled out a bottle of water and took a sip. "Have they offered you food or water? To take you to the restroom? To clean the blood off your face?"_

_I hadn't realized I had blood on my face. Was it mine?_

_"A guard asked if he could get anything for me but he wasn't really asking if I wanted a bottle of Evian and a cheeseburger, if you get my drift," I responded with a shrug, or as much of one as my hindered wrists would allow._

_Mr. Conroy's eyes narrowed, "Did you happen to catch this guard's name?"_

_"I wasn't looking to be on a first name basis with him or an any name basis, really," I said. "If it helps I nicknamed him Officer Dickbag. I never called him that to his face, but I bet you that bottle of Evian and the cheeseburger he'd answer to it if you did."_

_He tried hard to hide his smile and cover his chuckle with a cough, but he only just failed to make it convincing. As for the voyeurs behind the mirror, I could _hear_ them scowling._

_"I'll see what I can do about food, water, and getting them to let you clean yourself up after our meeting has concluded and, in answer to your question, it has been alleged that you have violated the Safe Citizens Act," Mr. Conroy explained._

_"Excuse me?" I spluttered incredulously, forgetting my concern over the fact that I had bled at some point and didn't know why. The idea that I was a terrorist was ludicrous. I was essentially our country's answer to terrorism and messy wars. He didn't know that, but it still made absolutely no sense. Where would they even get that idea?_

_"The police received an anonymous tip early this morning, stating that one Paige Donnelly, a waitress and bartender at a bar called The Finish Line used forged identification to obtain her job there. As you know, after the 2012 attacks, even though they were long before your time-" I wanted to snort at that. Maybe it had happened before I was born, but I'd lived and breathed the aftermath of it since I'd opened my eyes for the first time and taken my first breath. Those attacks _were_ my time no matter when they happened, "-the possession of forged identification documents is a very serious offense, one that has even resulted in capital punishment," Mr. Conroy intoned gravely, but his eyes were kind, sympathetic._

_I was too angry to give that much consideration though. No one in Louisville knew how old I was save one person - Jasper fucking Cullen. He was the only one who could even _infer_ that I may have used forged I.D.s to get my job at The Finish Line, but would he really do that to me? I knew he was an asshole, but I didn't think he was that cold-hearted. He'd even seemed almost decent when he left earlier this morning. How could he do this?_

Son of bitch!_ I cursed while trying to keep my expression neutral. It was a struggle. _Fuck!

_Given the circumstances, it was alright for me to look a little flustered. A normal person would have been. __I pressed my lips into a thin line, applied enough pressure to turn them white I was sure, ground my teeth, and refused to speak ... for all of ten seconds. I didn't have time to waste. If I was in this place for the potential violation of the Safe Citizens Act, I would be on the radar of the federal government in the blink of an eye, if I wasn't already, whether they knew who I was or not._

Double fuck!

_I fumed on the inside while on the outside I merely appeared confused and frightened. I was both truthfully, even the latter thing to a small degree. If I couldn't get my shit together and come up with some way to get out of this, that fear would morph into panic. Panic wasn't an emotion I dealt with often, and I always contained it quickly, but this situation seemed worthy of it._

Come on, Bella, think! You can get yourself out of this. You've gotten yourself out of worse,_ and that was true. I just needed more information._

_"If I'm such a dangerous enemy of the state, why haven't I been dragged off to Gitmo?" I asked, managing to sound dry, upset, and confused all at once._

_"Because I am damn good at my job," Mr. Conroy smiled. It was a proud statement, but it didn't come from a vain place; it came from an honest one. I could tell how much he loved to help people. He reminded me of Dr. Cullen in a way, but thinking of anything Cullen-related just brought a renewed sense of fury and betrayal._

_"I'm sure you are," I said with a scowl, trying to sound patient and not having to pretend how just the opposite I was, "but I'm not currently in the know so I would appreciate it if you actually told me about my case instead of patting yourself on the back. It _is_ my ass on the line."_

_The genial look on Mr. Conroy's face darkened, "Your ass isn't the only one on the line, Ms. Doe. I've gone to great lengths to get the Louisville police to go easy on you."_

_I didn't trust Mr. Conroy just like I didn't anyone else, but I found myself believing him. His heartbeat had been steady as he'd said it, and he'd met my gaze unflinchingly and without hesitation. It helped that, for a lawyer, he was too open to make a good liar and his body language had been honest from the moment he'd walked in the room._

_I couldn't deny that I was the tiniest bit relieved. I hadn't wanted to go all destructo girl to get myself out of here. Though I'd already ditched the fingerprints they'd just put in the system, they were still _in_ the system, so the sand in the hourglass had already started sifting to the bottom. While ripping this chair apart and kicking Louisville PD ass would get the job done it would also confirm my presence here, give the hunters my picture, on the off chance they didn't already know what I looked like, and a concrete point of reference in regard to my living habits since they would scour this place from top to bottom until they found where I'd holed up for the duration of my stay here. They would take every person I'd interacted with in Louisville into custody, and when they were done with those people, they'd either end up irrevocably altered or flat never seen or heard from again. Plus, using force to escape was never a good idea when law enforcement was involved. It wasn't a good idea when civilians were either but law enforcement especially so. They were authorized to use guns in the event they thought it was warranted, and that could get messy real fast. I could dodge bullets, but they couldn't and while collateral damage was something I'd always been taught could be an acceptable risk, it was never something I could or would condone._

_My scowl softened into a frown, my brows furrowing, "I would very much appreciate it if you would explain things in detail, Mr. Conroy, because I'm trying to make sense of all of this and am coming up woefully lacking. And Ms. Doe? Really?"_

_"Would you like to know what I think?" Mr. Conroy asked, only he wasn't really asking. There was only that slight lilt at the end of his sentence for the sake of propriety._

_"I think you're going to tell me what you think whether I want to know or not," I answered, meeting his gaze with serious eyes. Now was not the time for flippancy even though I was dying to let it leak into my tone._

_"I don't for one second believe you are a terrorist. I actually find the very idea of it quite laughable. What I think is that you are just a young girl down on her luck who is doin' her best to make ends meet, even if that includes stretching the truth a bit," he told me simply._

_I stared at him for a long time, the way I did everyone I couldn't immediately figure out._

_"And the Ms. Doe part?" I questioned, not acknowledging what he had just said. I wasn't quite ready to touch it. It was a little too apt for my liking._

_"While I don't believe you are a terrorist, I don't believe your real name is Paige Donnelly either," Mr. Conroy informed me. His eyes were sharp. He was obviously a very smart man, and I had no trouble believing he was brilliant at his job._

_"Why wouldn't Paige Donnelly be my real name?" I asked, trying not to sound defensive and unsure if I had succeeded._

_Mr. Conroy gave me a measuring look. "I'm no spring chicken dear, and I've been doin' this job a long time. My gut feeling is that you aren't down on your luck because your mother and father have fallen on hard times. You are hyper aware of your surroundings, you've been gauging me since the moment I walked in here, you always have something smart-mouthed to say instead of offering up anything meaningful or telling about yourself, you're closed off, and you don't trust easily," he summarized, scrutinizing me sharply. "You're hiding something. My instincts, which are hardly ever wrong, are telling me it's nothin' criminal. I'm leaning toward some sort of abuse and that maybe you might find the possibility of life in prison preferable to goin' back to whatever situation you were in before. If I'm right, and I think I am, a name change fits fairly well into that scenario."_

Fuck!

_I did not like this man. He was too goddamn smart and observant. I didn't respond to his statement, instead choosing to scowl._

_Mr. Conroy formed a bridge under his chin with his hands and rested it on the warm, flattened surface he'd created. He regarded me patiently, "Feel free to argue with me about it but you won't change my mind. Shall we move on?"_

_At my continued silence, he decided to proceed._

_"Okay then," he began, "there's both good and bad news. I'll start with the bad. The police department has you on tape admitting that you are, in fact, only 16 years old, when by law you must be at least age 21 to be employed at a place that sells liquor."_

That fucking asshole! I'll kill him. I'm going to hunt him down and kill him ... slowly and painfully.

_How could Jasper do this to me? I know I had made him angry, scratch that, furious, but to do this? I thought we had fixed things by the time he left. Fake, lying bastard. I _knew_ there was a reason I hated him._

_"The good news is that, upon searching your belongings, no identification, forged or otherwise, was found; which means that, while they have a recording of you admitting you are underage, they have no proof you used forged identification documents to procure your job at The Finish Line," Mr. Conroy informed me. "Unfortunately, that also means they can't prove you didn't and that tape can be considered circumstantial evidence."_

_"I fail to see how any of that can be considered good news," I said, struggling hard to resist the temptation to yank the metal bars the handcuffs were attached to clean off the chair and make a run for it. As much as I didn't want to, going all destructo girl was looking more and more like my only option._

No, no, that's not right, Bella. You always have more than one option. Think, goddamnit! Just fucking think!

_If only I could get my head to clear some more. It was taking all my concentration to focus on Mr. Conroy and everything he was telling me._

Damn it, Bella!_ I cursed myself, my frustration mounting. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. I settled for biting my lip. _You spent the first 12 years of your life being trained for shit like this and the last five putting it to good use. Get your head out of your ass and get the job done!

_Unbidden, Jasper fucking Cullen's face flashed behind my eyelids. For a brief moment, it made me want to smile. That was before the rage hit me in the stomach with the force of a kick from a bucking bronco. _That_ cleared my head. Once it did, I felt like the biggest idiot in the world. I was nothing if not stealthy. All I needed was to be taken back to my cell. Then I could pry the bars of my window wide enough apart to squeeze through, pop the glass of the window out of the frame, decide whether up or down was the best way to go, and take it from there. It was the plan I _should_ have come up with in the first place and now that I'd had the sense kicked into me, figuratively speaking, I felt much better. There was no need to panic, no cause for bloodshed, and relatively no chance I'd find myself back at Fort Ares any time soon._

_I just had to get back to my cell and everything would be okay. I hated the thought of leaving Louisville, Wildfire, and my job as an exercise rider behind, but a girl can't have it all, right? Freedom was more important than anything else. Right?_

_"I must admit that at the moment, the scales are tipped just a little more in favor of the bad news, but the important thing is that it isn't _all_ bad," he said almost cheerily, interrupting my strategizing, "which means I have something to work with."_

_"What's your plan?" I asked, sounding curious. I had to ask. I couldn't _not_ ask. What normal person wouldn't? And truthfully, I was curious. Mr. Conroy had already proven he was a great lawyer and I could only imagine that whatever he had up his sleeve to get me out of this mess would be worth sticking around for ... you know, if I wasn't being hunted down as a rogue government asset._

_Mr. Conroy smiled at me, his eyes sparkling. "I've already spoken with the judge that will preside over your hearing and given her my assessment of you and your case-"_

_"Wait, wait, wait," I interrupted. "How could you have told her anything about me when we only just met fifteen minutes ago?"_

_"Actually, we met last night," Mr. Conroy said, his expression somber._

_My mouth fell open for a good five seconds before I snapped it shut again. "I don't remember that. I think I would remember."_

_"You were ... not yourself last night," he murmured softly._

_"What do you mean?" I queried cautiously, almost afraid to hear what he had to say._

_Mr. Conroy seemed to sense this, and when he spoke again his eyes were sad, "Perhaps, that is something we can discuss another time."_

_I nodded at him gratefully, hating that I was being gun shy about it but wanting to hear the rest of what he had to say more than I wanted to face whatever it was that had happened the night before. At the same time, I wished I was back in my cell already, putting my plan into motion._

_Luckily, he didn't seem to believe in drawing out drama and tension, and he continued after only a brief pause, "As I was saying, even though public defender's opinions aren't generally taken into account, the judge and I are old friends and she trusts both my instincts and my experience. Because of this and my stellar reputation, I convinced her to release you into the custody of a foster home until your hearing instead of remaining at the jail; provided, of course, that you wear this."_

_He held up a slim, black, metallic circle that looked very much like a harmless piece of jewelry ... except it wasn't. It was a tracking anklet._

_I raised my eyebrows, and tried not to show my disgust at the idea._

_"Whether you're guilty or not, what you are accused of is a very serious offense, Ms. Doe," Mr. Conroy reinforced. "Letting you stay in a foster home instead of juvenile detention is a big concession, and it took a lot of convincing."_

_I didn't understand why Mr. Conroy would bother. Maybe he was just ... nice; like the Cullens. My hands clenched into fists. No, the Cullens were _not_ nice. They were meddling, irritating, lying, stalking assholes, but I couldn't dwell on that. Not now._

_"Why would you do that?" I asked. My curiosity was plain as was the fact that I was 100% miffed._

_"I work with kids like you all the time," he began. "They all matter, of course, but there are certain ones that particularly tug at my heartstrings. You happen to be one of those. Don't ask me to explain why because I'm not always able to verbalize it, but this isn't about pity. It's about making sure you aren't unjustly punished, and havin' to spend even a few hours in juvenile detention is of the cruel and unusual kind if you ask me. As long as you wear this tracking anklet and don't go anywhere within five miles of the Louisville city limit, you'll never have to see that place again."_

_I glanced at the anklet and weighed my options. Deactivating a tracking device and escaping a residential neighborhood would be a hell of a lot less complicated than busting out of jail, but was I willing to risk Mr. Conroy's job?_

Damn it!

_Sometimes morals were annoying. This man had really stuck his neck out for me, and I didn't know if I would be able to live with myself if he lost his job and, most likely, his pension because I took advantage of his kindness to save my own ass. Could I destroy someone else's life in the name of my own self-preservation?_

_"Before we discuss accessories," I said, nodding at the anklet, "there is one rather important thing that's been neglected don't you think?"_

_"And that would be?"_

_"You have yet to ask _me_ how I got my job at The Finish Line," I reminded him, frowning._

_Most people would have been annoyed by a person suggesting they weren't doing their job well, especially when that person was a teenager. Mr. Conroy just regarded me patiently. It was another thing that reminded me of Dr. Cullen. It made my blood boil, but I was able to separate it from the situation at hand and not project that anger onto my lawyer._

_"I have every intention of getting your account of things but, Darlin', you spent a good part of the night bleedin' out of your ears; and I can't imagine you're feeling very well right now. You take the weekend to rest, and we'll get to that at our meeting on Monday," he explained kindly. "That's also when the Louisville PD will conduct their interview."_

_My eyebrows furrowed. I'd bled out of my ears for a good part of the night? How long exactly was "a good part?" And did that really even matter? Bleeding during any one of my episodes, no matter out of which orifice, was new and I really didn't need another new thing to worry about at the moment._

_Why was this guy making things so easy yet so hard for me?_

Fuck!

_"I was going to have to wait for a few more hours to get you out of here, but I think I might be able to use my powers of persuasion to get you released now," Mr. Conroy said slyly. "It would make me feel a lot better knowing for sure you actually got a decent meal in you and didn't have to deal with inappropriate personnel. Give me a few minutes."_

_He didn't give me a chance to respond, but he wasn't looking for a response so it didn't matter._

oOo

_An hour and a half later, after a damn good meal at one of those awesome mom and pop diners, a trip to Target to pick up a change of clothes, and another to Mr. Conroy's house so I could shower after which he pointedly watched me fasten the tracking anklet around my ankle, he dropped me off at Rafe and Lydia Jones' house ..._

oOo

**A/N:** Alrighty, folks. I blame parts of this chapter on my love of _Burn Notice_. I challenge anyone to watch that show and not either fall in love with or develop a man crush on Michael Westen and Jesse Porter. Seriously. (Sam Axe is pretty damn cool too.)

Please don't be too angry with Bella for assuming that Jasper is the reason she has been arrested. She isn't at her best right now and her brain is too busy trying to figure a way out of her current predicament for her to think much about whether or not there could have been someone else responsible. Plus, she only spoke to him for the first time about two hours or so before she go arrested, they spent forty-five minutes together, and not all of that time was spent talking. Even though Jasper makes her feel things she's never felt before, she doesn't know him and that can only take a girl so far, especially a girl like Bella. For now, give her a break.

One more thing. As you have obviously noticed, Longing is set in 2080. Since it is only 2012 (nearly 2013), I have no way of knowing what music, movies, TV shows, etc., will be popular then (I have no Alice to help me out with that, sadly). When I feel the need to mention one of the above, it will be at my discretion whether or not I deem a show, movie, song, book, etc. current, not so current, old, ancient and so on and so forth. You get the idea. :)

Well, what did you think? You know I would love to know. :)

Until next time ...


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm just playing with her characters but the plot of Longing does belong to me. Jasper as the God of War and Peter 'just knowing shit' are ideas that belong to IdreamofEddy.

I hope you all had a wonderful New Years. Mine was very quiet but that's one of two ways I like to spend my time ringing in a new year, so it was good.

Thank you to Laurie Whitlock, my beta, AlwaysJASPERsLOVE and Shadman, my pre-readers, and my sister Shelljayz, who pre-reads and helps me find clarity when I'm stuck on the story and also when I'm stuck in life.

Thank you to everyone who has put Longing on their alerts, favorited, and reviewed. I so appreciate all of you. I also want to thank you all for sticking with me through the plot rehash. I know that slowed things down some, and I won't apologize for that because there was no other way for me to write that part of the story, but I'm grateful that you have continued to read despite the fact that the pace lost some of its momentum.

**This chapter contains some allusions to and mentions of child abuse. Fair warning!**

**Chapter 18**

oOo

_September 2080_

BPOV

_-Flashback-_

_Saturday_

_It was just after five in the afternoon when Mr. Conroy dropped me off at Rafe and Lydia Jones', patting my shoulder in a grandfatherly sort of way that I did my best not to flinch at and reassuring me that he would do his best to vindicate me. _

_The Jones' lived in a nice yellow, two-story, four bedroom, clapboard house with a brown roof. It wasn't swanky or elegant the way the Cullen home was ..._

Fuck! Quit thinking about the fucking Cullens. They betrayed you ... no_ he _betrayed you. The rest of them have nothing to do with this. Just quit thinking about it.

_Lydia Jones was a woman in her early thirties, and everything about her was slight from her diminutive 5'2" height to her too-thin frame. She had jet black hair, sage green eyes, and cafe au lait skin. I suspected she was the product of a biracial couple, most likely a Caucasian/African American pairing, but it wasn't something I would ask about. I was a lot of things, but I wasn't rude. Alright, that's a load of shit. I'm plenty rude but never needlessly so, and I did possess a little thing called tact ... when I felt inclined to use it. She had a sweet smile, but there was an emptiness behind her eyes I couldn't place._

_Rafe wasn't home when I got there. According to Lydia, he was spending the day at Churchill Downs watching the races, but I couldn't have cared less where he was. I was just biding my time anyway. As soon as the clock hit midnight, the tracking anklet was coming off and I would be putting Louisville in my rearview mirror. _

_Aside from me, there were seven other kids living with the Jones': Shiri, 4, Jax, 5, Elizabeth, 6 and the only one of whom was their biological child, Matt, 8, Alana, 8, Lucas, 11, and Mari, 12._

_Kids my own age weren't the only kids I didn't have the first clue what to do with. I was damn adaptable, and did it quickly too, but when Shiri, a pale girl with white-blonde hair, wide blue eyes, and her thumb tucked firmly in her mouth, latched herself tightly onto my leg the instant I walked in the door, I froze. It was a shock to my system but not in a bad way. She was a sweet little child with warm little arms and big, beseeching eyes. She wasn't a threat to me, and I didn't have to worry about trust with her. I liked it._

_The other kids were quiet too, kind of shy, smiling hesitantly at me, and sticking together in a close-knit group. I liked that they were so loyal to each other, but it still bugged me. They were _too_ quiet. Weren't little kids supposed to be loud? I'm sure some of them were quiet but how likely was it that seven random kids would be? It wasn't statistically possible, but this was not my area of expertise so maybe I was just looking for things to be wrong. I did still feel like I'd gotten hit by a train. I could read people well, and children were just tiny humans, right? But if I thought about it, their timidity made sense. This was a foster home. Kids didn't come to be in places like this because their lives had been fairytales, they came here because they had been nightmares. _

_I felt a strange stirring in my chest, one different than the persistent tightness I'd grown accustomed to as I realized I had much more in common with these kids than I was comfortable with. _

_Lydia showed me to the second-story bedroom I would be staying in without any fanfare, Shiri clutching at my leg all the while. While it wasn't big, it wasn't small either. It had beige walls and carpet, a twin bed, a dresser, and a desk in the corner. Its decor was the kind I'd seen in the bedrooms of little girls in most of the movies I'd watched about such things. The linens were full of pink and purple as were the knick knacks, stuffed animals, and other various things a little girl owned. I had to assume that about those things since my barracks at Fort Ares were drab gray and spartan, and the concept of owning or needing anything other than my portable personal weapons arsenal had been so terribly foreign when I first escaped it had struck me dumb. I guessed this room was Elizabeth's. Since she was Lydia and Rafe's biological child, it made the most sense that she'd have a room to herself. Of course, just because it made the most sense didn't mean I was right. _

_I told Lydia I would happily sleep on the couch instead of taking over someone else's bedroom, especially since I wouldn't actually be sleeping or staying; but she told me it was no problem, pulled me to the girls' room and moved her arm in a sweeping gesture. I looked inside and saw that not only was the room significantly larger than the one I was staying in, but there were three sets of bunk beds set up in it. I understood then, but I still didn't like it. Elizabeth shouldn't have had to give up her space for me._

_"I thought you might want some space from the younger ones," Lydia said, disrupting my inner diatribe. Then she leaned toward me and lowered her voice, "Besides, you won't be here long and the less you're around them," she explained, her eyes darting down to Shiri and then at the wall to where she assumed the rest of the kids would be on the other side of it, "the less it will hurt when you go."_

_I glanced down at Shiri and then up into Lydia's eyes, seeing the sincerity there, and I understood because I agreed with her. Getting attached was a bad idea. I nodded and no longer argued with her about where I would be "sleeping."_

_After that, I helped Lydia make dinner. It was a simple affair: macaroni and cheese, canned ravioli, and frozen, mixed vegetables. Honestly, I didn't really approve. Kids needed better nutrition than canned, processed crap like that to grow, but I got it. Crap food was better than no food, and Lydia and Rafe did have nine mouths in total to feed, ten now that I was there. Even with state assistance and jobs that had to be tough to pull off. I knew what it felt like to struggle to keep yourself fed, to starve and not on purpose, and it was just me. I couldn't judge, but I was only human, mostly ... I hoped._

_I had been hoping I'd start feeling more like myself after I'd eaten again, but I didn't. My brain was still an aching mass of jello in my skull and the dizziness from the night before was still lingering. This was not a good thing, not a good thing at all. Not once since I'd left Project Apotheosis had it taken me this long to recover from any sort of injury. Then again, I hadn't been injured since I left there, which was part of the point. Still, this was not normal, and it was starting to worry me. I needed to be at my best if I had to tangle with hunters and right now I wasn't. That wasn't my biggest concern though. As good as the scientists that had created me were in their field, there was still room for error. What if there was something seriously wrong with me, something that had previously gone undetected and was just now surfacing? I wasn't typically one for dramatics, but there was the possibility they had gotten a few wires crossed. I wouldn't let myself think like that, couldn't, just because of one little headache and some dizziness, but it was still something I had to be aware of._

_I spent the time after dinner hacking into the Louisville PD database from the Jones' computer and altering the fingerprints attached to my mugshot. It was probably too late to do any good, but I still had to try. I would have gone into their digital evidence database and wiped out the recording of me admitting to Jasper that I was underage, but thought better of it. It would have been suspicious. My other option would have been to write a virus and let it loose on their mainframe, shutting their whole system down and erasing either everything on it or just a select few items including the evidence against me; but I wasn't willing to compromise even a few let alone hundreds of other cases just to cover my own ass. I had been an idiot, and now I was paying for it. I wouldn't make anyone else. _

_Once that was done, I lounged on the bed in my temporary room, staring up at the ceiling and stewing in my anger. It wasn't helping my headache any, but the whole thing was irritating the shit out of me. I still couldn't believe Jasper would fuck me over like that. He'd said he was impressed by how I'd adapted and made things work for me so I could survive. Obviously he'd just been blowing smoke up my ass, saying that shit so it would hurt that much more when he stabbed me in the back, and I had let him touch me! How could I have been so stupid?_

_I felt the burn of tears filling my eyes with a foreign tightness that infuriated me so much I wanted to scream, lash out, break things. I wanted to break _him_, but I would not give in to my emotions. I didn't cry, I couldn't cry. I had to push all that shit aside so I could concentrate on my exit strategy which may or may not end up being simple. I would deal with my rage and hurt later._

_The thing of it was, I _hadn't_ violated the Safe Citizens Act. I knew better than to put myself at risk like that. Christian had offered me the job at The Finish Line because we'd met at that poker game which happened to take place in a bar. He had just assumed since I'd gotten into that bar that I was of age and when I'd called him two days later to interview for the bartender position, I had lied and said my wallet had been stolen; that I couldn't get him copies of my driver's license or social security card until I received replacements. He'd told me it was fine and just kept me off the books until I could get those things to him, paying me in cash but deducting the appropriate taxes from my wages. I would be gone by the time he would start to get suspicious enough about me not getting copies of my documentation to him to ask questions. _

_When ten o'clock hit, I was counting down the minutes until my escape. It was almost tedious enough to lull me to sleep, but even though my head was still killing me, the hours of darkness from the night before had apparently been enough to satiate my sleep quota for the next couple weeks. What I really wished for was some pain killers. Unfortunately, over-the-counter drugs did nothing for me. Unless I had access to heavy duty, high dosage prescription medication - as in high enough to sedate a baby elephant (okay maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration, but pretty damn close) - the only hope of relief I had was mind over matter and considering it was my mind, in a certain sense, that was the issue it would be tougher than usual to put that into practice. _

_My musings on that were stopped short at the sound of the pitter-pattering of little feet on the carpet and the slow creak of my door opening. Moving my gaze to the entrance of the room, I saw little Shiri passing through it, doing her best to close the door quietly even though she had trouble reaching the knob. When she turned back around and started in the direction of the bed I noticed she looked very awake for a four year old at this time of night, and that her thumb was still tucked in her mouth. The only time I'd seen it out of it was during dinner. When Shiri reached the bed, she climbed up into it and snuggled herself into my side, hugging me tightly. She didn't say a word, just clung to me, and I found myself at a loss. Her touch still didn't bother me. I actually found a modicum of comfort in it, but I didn't understand why she would come in here to be with me, someone she barely knew._

_"Shiri, sweetheart," I said quietly, "are you okay?"_

_She hugged me tighter before whispering, "Will you keep the monsters away?"_

_My mouth fell open. I knew she couldn't see my stupefied expression in the dark and I was glad. I didn't want to make her feel dumb, and I had no fucking idea what to do. Shiri obviously thought there were monsters somewhere in her room that she needed protection from._

_"What monsters honey?" I asked gently. I generally rolled my eyes at people who used terms of endearment like that. Maybe I just got annoyed with them because I wished I had someone to call me "honey" or "sweetheart". _

Nah. It's just lame.

_"The ones under my bed," she whispered in answer, her warm breath tickling my neck where her head was nestled._

_Oh, right. Little kids got scared of imaginary monsters didn't they? I felt my heart constrict in my chest, and I swear I melted but only a little. She was just so damn sweet and she was scared. No child should ever have to be frightened whether what they were frightened of was real or not._

_"Alright, Shiri," I agreed, "I'll keep the monsters away."_

_"Thank you," she said in a small voice and I felt her smile against my skin before she stuck her thumb back in her mouth._

_I couldn't resist smiling as well, bringing my hand up to stroke her feather soft hair. She sighed sleepily and not even a minute later she was out._

_I lay there stroking Shiri's hair for a long time. It was a soothing action and it helped set my mind at ease. It did nothing for the ache in my head, the persistent itch, or the tightness in my chest but it made me feel better in a different way. I was able to focus more coherently on what I needed to accomplish when the clock struck midnight, which according to the alarm on the bedside table would be in thirty-eight minutes. Really, everything I needed to do was old hat by now, things I could do in my sleep, but the threat of being dragged back to the place I'd been created had never weighed on me quite so heavily and I couldn't afford to let the fact that I had done this dozens of times make me arrogant in any sense of the word. Arrogance was something that often led to one's downfall and, while the things I could do that no one else could bred it to a certain degree, I was fallible. That had been proven too many times in the last several weeks, far more than I was comfortable with. I was supposed to be perfect, I had been made to be perfect and I had to be if I really wanted this life of mine - a life that belonged to me, one where I could decide how I lived, where I didn't have to use my freak abilities to hurt people or endure endless hurt myself just to learn how to use those freak abilities. But because all of it was old hat, it would make it easier to handle if I got thrown any curve balls._

_Eight minutes later the door to the house banged open and loud, shuffling, uneven footsteps could be heard moving through the house. The pungent scents of alcohol, body odor, and the race track assaulted my nose and I wished, not for the first time, that I could shut my keen sense of smell off or at least dial it down to that of a normal human. It appeared Rafe Jones had finally come home and drunk no less. I huffed in disgust. The guy had left his wife to take care of eight kids by herself all fucking day while he gambled and got shitfaced. What a dick. I listened as he stumbled to the couch - he hadn't taken enough steps to make it to the master bedroom nor had the sound of his footsteps gone far enough east - and passed out._

_Shiri shuddered in her sleep, and I pulled her closer to me even though she was already so tight against me it was more of a squeeze than anything else. Thirty minutes later, she was still wrapped around me, and I didn't know what to do. It was time for me to go, but Shiri had come to me because she was scared. Maybe her monsters were imaginary, but I didn't like the idea of leaving a little kid in the middle of the night, especially after I'd made a promise to keep her safe, whether what I was keeping her safe from was real or not. As I held her small frame against mine, I thought about what it would have been like if I'd had someone to hold me like this when I was her age, and I knew I couldn't leave her. Not like this. I was sure I still had a little time before my whereabouts were discovered and that gave me a little wiggle room. I could wait a couple more hours. A couple more hours wouldn't hurt anything._

oOo

_Nearly two hours later, I felt wet warmth soak my abdomen and the unmistakable scent of urine filled the air. Shiri had wet the bed. There were so many reasons it could have happened, but none of them mattered. Not when she startled awake at the feel of her cold, sopping pajamas and the soaked bed sheets, and looked up at me with those big, blue eyes that had filled with tears and embarrassment._

_"Hey, hey," I cooed, stroking her hair and then dragging the pads of my thumbs underneath her eyes to wipe away her tears, "it's okay, Shiri. It's okay. Let's get you cleaned up."_

_Crawling out of bed, I beckoned for her to come to me and after only a little coaxing and encouragement, she did. I scooped her up easily, hitching her on my hip and taking her to the nearest bathroom. Setting her down on the toilet, I turned to leave so I could find some clean things for her to change into, but she grabbed my hand and squeezed remarkably hard for someone her age and size. She didn't want me to go. She didn't say it, but the look in those eyes of hers said it all. They were wide, doe-like, pleading._

_"I'll be right back," I promised with a gentle smile. "I just want to get you some clean pajamas."_

_I could tell she still didn't want me to leave but she loosened her grip on my hand. _

_I was in and out of the girls' room very quickly, making use of how light on my feet I was; amongst other things, and returned to the bathroom to find Shiri still sitting on the toilet. She was fidgeting up a storm and I didn't blame her. Wearing wet anything, aside from a swimsuit, was annoying as hell, so I turned on the hot water tap in the sink so it would heat up and then tugged her pajama bottoms down. What I saw made me wish I hadn't eaten dinner._

_Shiri had bruises on her legs … bruises I didn't like the look of at all. Out of a need driven by mounting dread, I pulled her pajama shirt over her head to reveal bruises on her torso and arms as well, all in various stages of healing. She also had scars in varying shades of pink in too many places on her little body. Maybe I didn't know much about kids, but I did know that they could be rambunctious and rough at times, especially little boys of which there were two in the house. Maybe that was all there was to the explanation for Shiri's bruises and the cuts that would have produced those scars, but I also knew some things about wounds. The amount of force it would have taken to cause the extent of some of the bruising far exceeded what any of the children or even Lydia could exert. Rafe, on the other hand, was an entirely different story. From what I had seen of him in the pictures around the house and knew of his job as a welder at the shipyard, he was perfectly capable of dishing out that kind of damage. I couldn't just jump to conclusions though._

_"What happened to you, sweetheart?" I asked softly as I wet a washcloth and set about carefully cleaning her up, mindful of being extra gentle around the tender, bruised flesh._

_Shiri just looked at me, her face and voice almost matter-of-fact, "The monsters."_

_Maybe Shiri's monsters weren't so imaginary._

oOo

_Sunday_

_I held Shiri all throughout the night, doing my best to push all my fear and worry over my own fate to the back of my still foggy and aching brain, the occasional trickle of blood leaking out of my left ear every now and again. It was quite possibly one of the stupidest things I'd ever done, aside from letting Jasper fucking Cullen ever lay a finger on me, but I had to find out for sure what the hell was going on in this house. I couldn't just leave with the idea that this sweet little girl and the six other innocent and endearing children I had come to know might have been being abused hanging over my head. I had to know. I wouldn't ever be able to rest easy until I did._

_Shiri slept until 9:00 am. I didn't know if that was late for a four year old or not, but I didn't much care because it genuinely seemed like she needed it, and I wanted her to have that. More than that, I wanted to be the one to give it to her, and she seemed to need me to be able to sleep well. Unfortunately, because she slept so late, I didn't get an opportunity to meet Rafe face-to-face and make any observations that might confirm my suspicions. All I could do was listen as he interacted with his wife as she made him breakfast and as they ate it together. While he'd never in a million years be nominated for Husband of the Year, it wasn't enough for me to go on without seeing the body language to match. _

_Despite the fact that Rafe came home shitfaced drunk at 11:30 the night before, and must have had one hell of a hangover, according to the information I'd gleaned from his breakfast conversation with Lydia he had to be at the docks at 8:30 that morning to work a twelve hour shift. That gave me time to do some detective work. _

_My first order of business - finding out anything and everything I could about Rafe Jones, which would include yet again hacking into the Louisville PD database to see if he had a record. Before I did that though, Shiri wanted me to eat breakfast with her, help her pick out her outfit for the day, and play dress up and Barbies. After an hour and forty-five minutes of this and a brief phone conversation with Mr. Conroy to reassure him that I was doing fine, I had to find a gentle way of telling her I needed to run some errands. I couldn't use the Jones' computer to do my research on Rafe because if Lydia somehow managed to catch me, I didn't want to have to answer any uncomfortable questions before I was ready to ask uncomfortable questions of my own._

_Making use of the University of Louisville's Ekstrom Library, I found out everything there was to know about Rafe Jones from the fact that he'd been born in Baltimore, Maryland and his father had relocated them to Louisville when he was four after his parents split to the fact that his favorite snack food was Salsa Verde Doritos. Disappointingly enough, on digital record his father appeared to be a mild-mannered man with no record and no propensity for controlling or abusive behaviors. His mother, whom he spent his summers in Baltimore with up through his senior year in high school, appeared to be equally innocuous; and aside from a few speeding and parking tickets and a drunk and disorderly when he was 22, Rafe Jones appeared to be Joe Normal. None of it jived with my instincts, however, and Shiri's bruises didn't just magically appear on her body. When it came down to it, I had to go with my gut and do what had to be done to get to the bottom of this because I was running out of time, and I needed this situation to be resolved before I took off. Plus, the longer I stayed in the Jones' house, _if_ Project Apotheosis had caught wind of my whereabouts and had already sent a team of hunters to retrieve me, my presence in their home put them in danger. I wasn't going to worry about that too much though … yet. _

_While the people that had trained me had done their best to drill into my head that collateral damage was an acceptable risk, they had also instilled in me the strict sense of how to know when it was acceptable; so, they would do their best not to hurt anyone they didn't have to to bring me in, especially if it involved little kids but if things got complicated they would scrap that idea in a heartbeat. _

_I returned to the Jones house at 2 o'clock that afternoon and steeled myself to do two very difficult things. The first was to see if I could get any of the rest of the kids to both show me any injuries they might have and tell me how they'd gotten them. The second was to confront Lydia. I was not looking forward to either of them._

_Fortunately for me, because of the still humid and hot early September weather, the clothes the other five kids were wearing made it easier for me to see if they had bruises and cuts like Shiri's. Jax had a bruise on his shoulder that was yellowing but still purple enough for me to tell that the impact to it could have been hard enough to crack his collarbone. He wasn't moving like the bone was broken but the range of motion in his arm was stiff and while he didn't cry or complain about it, I knew he was in pain. These were things I should have noticed the day before. Then again, the day before, when Mr. Conroy had dropped me off, they'd all been wearing clothing that covered any parts of their bodies that were injured. No, I still should have noticed. _

You're fucking slipping, Bella,_ I chastised myself. I could blame all this on my continued state of disorientation but that was no excuse. I had been trained to fight through physical states of pain and injury of all kinds, including my current one, to be a good soldier. Maybe I didn't want to be a soldier, good, bad or in between, maybe that's why I had escaped; but the fact was, I _needed_ to be a good soldier to stay on the outside. _Catch-22_ had been the theme of my life for the last five years. The fog hugging my mind shouldn't have affected my observational skills._

_It was the same with all the other kids. They had little injuries that were noticeable just outside of their clothes, injuries no one else would question because the little bits that were visible looked just like any other bump or bruise a child might incur during playtime … unless you knew as much about injuries as I did. I didn't need to ask to see if there were more bruises underneath their clothes because I already knew the answer nor did I need to ask them any questions about how they'd gotten them. It didn't seem right to put them on the spot or make them relive any trauma they'd been through. I knew how much that sucked. Their eerie, abnormal reticence now made a hell of a lot more sense after seeing all of that._

_Around 2:30, Lydia set all the kids up with a movie in the living room and headed to the kitchen to clean up the remnants of lunch, presenting me with the perfect opportunity to confront her about what I was now certain was happening in her home. _

_I approached her slowly, purposely making noise as I came up behind her so she'd know I was coming. The likelihood that Rafe was confining the abuse to the children was slim. Lydia was probably just as much a victim as they were, unless I was reading the whole situation wrong and Lydia was the abuser. At the rate I was going, that was entirely likely. Either way, I had to handle this delicately._

_"Lydia," I said just loudly enough for her to hear me over the running of the water as she filled the kitchen sink in preparation to wash some dishes._

_Lydia put down the pot she'd just picked up to run under the faucet and turned to face me, smiling. It was a decent imitation of bright but I saw it for what it was this time, the emptiness in her eyes stark and telling. "What can I do for you, Jane?"_

_I met her gaze evenly, my tone serious and unwavering as I answered, "Shiri slept with me last night-"_

_"Oh, that's nice, dear," she interrupted._

_"She wet the bed," I intoned strongly, conveying that I didn't wish to be interrupted again but at the same time keeping my voice gentle. It was a hard line to walk but I managed. "When I went to clean her up, I noticed she had some bruises."_

_Lydia's eyes widened subtly. She swallowed nervously, her heart rate speeding up, and she twisted her hands once with the dish towel. It would have been a mundane gesture but her hands weren't wet. When she spoke, her voice came out sounding as though her mouth was dry, her tone uneasy though she tried to hide it, "Oh you know kids, they bump into things and they play hard. Jax and Matt play rough with her sometimes and Shiri's clumsy too."_

Bullshit!_ I scoffed, managing to keep my face patient and non-judgmental rather than scornful. I hadn't seen Shiri stumble once in the time I'd been here and I hadn't seen Jax or Matt roughhouse at all, either with each other or any of the other kids, since I'd gotten here either._

_"There are an awful lot of them, Lydia," I said, my tone unwavering but still gentle. I didn't want to upset her anymore than necessary since I was now certain this house was not the relatively harmless place it had appeared to be when I first arrived. It just reinforced the simple truth that things were almost never as they seemed. "And the other kids have them too."_

_"Like I said, kids can be rough when they play," she said through gritted teeth. She was more nervous and apprehensive than angry but she was doing a great job of faking it. It was only further proof that I was right. If they really were just injuries incurred through childhood roughhousing, she wouldn't have any reason to be defensive. Then again, the mere implication that some sort of abuse was happening in her home when it wasn't certainly would be enough to draw that out. However, if that was the case she had no reason to be nervous._

_I was frustrated now. I felt bad for pushing the issue, if only because Lydia was looking so damn fragile, but this situation needed to be resolved and quickly. "I'm not trying to make you upset or to turn your life upside down. I'm just concerned."_

_"Trying to upset me seems like exactly what you're trying to do and you're doing it for absolutely no reason!" she snapped. Her tone and the look on her face suggested she was trying desperately to keep up her angry façade but she wasn't successful._

_"I know a thing or two about bruises, Lydia," I told her calmly though on the inside I was anything but, "and the ones on those precious little kids in that room over there," I gestured toward where they were watching the movie, "are not from run of the mill child antics. Nor is that bruise on your elbow."_

_I said it softly, my voice still gentle as I pointed out where the sleeve of her 3/4 length shirt had ridden up to reveal a nasty looking injury that was fresher than any of the ones I'd seen on the kids. I had no doubt that the tip of one of the bones in her elbow was fractured and I was more than a little sympathetic and empathetic. It took a lot of self-control to hide the kind of pain she must have been in, to fight through it like it wasn't there. I knew that from experience. I wondered how many years it had taken her to master that. Now, onto the really hard question, "Did Rafe do that to you? To them?"_

_Lydia's eyes did not widen subtly this time; they nearly bugged out of her head. Her mouth dropped open, shutting, opening, shutting ... much as mine had early Saturday morning when Christian had asked me out. "No!" she nearly shrieked in horror, naked fear clouding her eyes and twisting her features. "Of course not!"_

_I eyed her carefully, trying to figure out what to do next. I wanted to shake her and demand that she tell me the truth as I did it, but I knew that wasn't a good idea. She was a victim of domestic abuse and I didn't want to upset her anymore than I already had. This wasn't easy for either of us, I couldn't make it unnecessarily harder. Lydia didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve any of it. None of them did._

_My gaze remained steady on hers and it made her uncomfortable, so much so that she broke eye contact, dropping her eyes to the floor. I couldn't let her pull away from this though. Maybe she wasn't ready to admit she needed help. Maybe it wasn't my place to intervene, but I could not let this go. Somehow the abuse had gone unnoticed by social services. Maybe that wasn't something that could have been helped. Programs like that were often understaffed and the staff they did have was generally overworked. No matter how it had happened, I refused to let the welfare of these kids continue to slip through the cracks whether it made Lydia uncomfortable or not; so I gripped her chin between my fingers and forced her to look at me. "Tell me the truth, Lydia."_

_My tone wasn't quite so gentle this time. She needed to understand that she wasn't going to get out of this, but when I said the words her gaze hardened, defiance flashing in her eyes, "I am," she said stonily._

_I couldn't stop the impatience and frustration mounting within me. I was trying to remember that this wasn't her fault, that she had the mindset of a victim, and that fear was playing a big part in her stubbornness, but it was hard. Still, I forcefully shoved it back._

_"What is it, Lydia?" I asked, sounding patient, impatient, and just a little desperate all at once. "Has he told you that you deserve it?" It was just a shot in the dark but from the way she flinched the slightest bit, I'd hit the nail on the head. "No matter what he says or what you believe, you don't, and those kids sure as _hell_ don't. At the very least, some part of you knows that just as well as I do. Even if you don't give a shit about the others, Elizabeth is your flesh and blood. The way you feel every time he hits you, that's how she feels when he hits her or sees him hit you. That is how she feels every day and that is how she will feel every day for the rest of her life if you don't do something! Just tell me the truth, Lydia."_

_Tears filled her eyes and she sucked in an agonized breath, "He doesn't mean it!" she wailed. "He doesn't! He loves us but his job ... he gets so stressed! He loves us," she repeated weakly._

_I sighed and continued to observe the miserable woman before me. She was so broken, in heart and spirit. It was painful to see and the whole thing made me sick._

_"What are you going to do now?" Lydia asked, her tone frightened and cautious. She refused to meet my eyes._

_I waited until she looked up at me, which took a full minute of silence on my part, and we locked gazes. "Nothing ... yet."_

oOo

_I left after Lydia finally admitted to me that Rafe was responsible for both the kids' and her injuries. My head was spinning with the information I'd uncovered. Sure, I'd pretty much known my instincts about the situation were spot on, but having it confirmed was still like getting punched in the gut. Add to that my ever-persistent headache and how off-kilter I felt, the restlessness, the itch, and the tightness in my chest that I'd been feeling for weeks now and what I wanted more than anything was to put a fucking bullet between Rafe Jones' eyes, preferably after I'd broken several bones and gotten creative with a knife or possibly a blow torch. _

_I needed time to think about how I was going to handle this clusterfuck, to strategize and make plans; so I went to the only place in Louisville that I knew would bring me a modicum of peace and a clear enough head to figure things out - Wildfire's stall at Churchill Downs. I gathered up a curry comb, a stiff brush, a hoof pick, and a mane and tail comb before quickly vaulting over the stall, and landing soundlessly beside my equine buddy. He didn't startle or spook, he'd known I was there from the moment I'd walked into the barn, maybe even before that. I can't explain how I knew this but I did know - Wildfire had felt my presence just as I had felt his. It was very similar to how I'd felt when Jasper had walked into The Finish Line two days ago, only without the sexual component obviously._

God, has it only been two days?_ It seemed like a fucking lifetime since I'd felt Jasper's eyes on me. For the first time since I'd woken up in the jail cell the day before, I didn't feel blistering rage when I thought of him. I was too consumed with my anger at Rafe to think much on how he had betrayed me._

_"Hey buddy," I greeted softly, running my hand down Wildfire's neck and giving him a quick scratch on the withers. I set to work with the curry comb and spoke my thoughts aloud to the best friend I'd ever had, "I'm not sure what to do. There are a couple ways I can try to fix this but I'm not sure which way to go. The smartest thing for me to do for _my_ safety would be to call Mr. Conroy and tell him everything Lydia told me as well as everything I found out on my own. I know he would believe me and that he would do his best to take care of it, but what if my taking off affects his job in such a way that he won't be able to help them?" I asked, still running the curry comb over him with my right hand and trailing the fingers of my left through his coat. "Even if my leaving doesn't affect his job, what if, for whatever reason, Mr. Conroy can't get an investigation up and running or if he does, what if it falls through? Lydia won't file charges or probably even admit what he's done to anyone else. How can I take the risk of that happening?"_

_Wildfire nuzzled me when I moved around toward his shoulder with the intention of starting in on him with the stiff brush, and I let him for a long time, moving my hands from his nose up to scratch behind his ears and back again. Surprisingly enough, I found that I liked snuggling but only with little kids and animals. I found that very bizarre but not entirely unwelcome. "I could stay and take care of it myself so I know that the kids will be safe but I'm not sure how I would do it, and it's so risky, Wildfire. I should have been gone by now. I should have put Louisville behind me sixteen hours ago," I whispered, moving in close to him and leaning my head against his shoulder. The idea of leaving him was painful to me, more painful than I ever would have thought. Wildfire seemed to agree if his snort was any indication. "I don't want to leave you either, buddy. I love you so much," I reassured him sadly. "I've just worked _so_ hard to keep out of their reach and the idea of it all crashing down around me now … I don't want to go back there, Wildfire. I _can't_ go back there."_

_Tears welled in my eyes but I did nothing to stem their flow this time. I hated crying, loathed it, but it seemed appropriate so I let the tears fall. I remained silent as I picked his hooves, still thinking, and couldn't find the words as I combed his mane and tail. Then I took him out to the cross-ties, saddled him up, led him to a practice track, and rode, letting the smooth rhythm of first his trot, then his canter, and finally his gallop lull me into a place where I could do some genuine soul-searching. I rode for nearly two hours, alternating between a walk, a trot, a canter, and a gallop so I wouldn't overwork him before taking him back to his barn and giving him a bath. I tied his lead rope in a slip knot in front of his stall as I quickly cleaned it and then added fresh grass hay to his feeding trough and fresh water to his water bucket. Curling up in the corner of his stall and tucking my knees under my chin, he soon lay down beside me - a sign of serious trust - nudging me with his nose. I looked him in the eyes._

_"I know what I'm going to do now, buddy," I told him, stroking his jaw. "I'm going to fight for those kids. No matter what happens to me, I'm going to fight for them because they don't have anyone else to do it. They're just kids - they can't do it for themselves yet and they shouldn't have to. They need to be fought for, to know that someone is willing to do that for them, to know that someone thinks they're worth fighting for, and what use is being a genetically-engineered badass if you can't use your powers for the greater good every once in awhile?"_

_Wildfire nudged me with his nose again and I took that as his sign of approval. I smiled at him and pressed a kiss to his forehead, snuggling with him for as long as I could. The longer I stayed with him, the more certain I was of my decision. What happened to me didn't matter. The only thing that did matter was what happened to those kids. I would help them. I would make sure they were safe and if I got caught because of it, I was okay with that. I didn't want to go back, I would _never_ want to go back, but I'd rather it be for a good cause and on my own terms than anything else. Besides, it's not like I was just going to roll over, hold out my hands for them to shackle and go quietly. That wasn't my style. I would fight, I would fight hard, and there was a good chance I would get away. If Project Apotheosis was coming for me at all; they weren't yet here. I still had time and I was going to use it well. _

_I had a plan ..._**  
**

oOo

**A/N:** Bella always seems to have a plan. Does anyone else think she's starting to sound like a cylon in that way? Alright, that's my one _BSG_ fangirl moment for now. You know if I start using 'frak' I've truly gone on a trip to geekville, but I'm okay with being a geek. I came to terms with it long ago. :)

This chapter was full of some heavy stuff and it was a tough one to write for that reason, so I hope I did it well and as respectfully as a person can when discussing a situation like this. This is one of those chapters that I wrote weeks before I posted my author's note, and I didn't make any changes to it in light of the concerns that were brought to me even though they were on a slightly different tack.

The next chapter is the one you've all been waiting for. You finally find out how Bella ends up in the morgue! Is anyone excited? Relieved that the wait is finally over? Loosening the grip you had on the knife you were considering using to stab me in the eye for _making_ you wait for so long, perhaps? :)

Take care everyone. Until next time ... :)


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer, but her characters are fun to play with so I'm making them do my bidding for the foreseeable future. Jasper as the God of War and Peter 'just knowing shit' are ideas that belong to IDreamofEddy.

Thank you so much to my amazing beta Laurie Whitlock, my equally amazing pre-readers Shadman and AlwaysJASPERsLOVE, and my sister, Shelljayz. As you know, she is also a pre-reader as well as many other things for this story, and she caught some very important inconsistencies in this chapter. Thanks so much for noticing them sis! You are awesome and I love you! :)

Once again, thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed. You guys amaze me and I love you all to death. 303 reviews? Holy crap! The only thing I can say to that is WOW! I feel so honored by that and I reiterate, I love you all. :)

I noticed a mistake I made in chapter 17. Mr. Conroy would be a public defender not a public prosecutor, so I fixed that. I'm a perfectionist, it's a sickness.

One other thing before I get onto things. The chapters will be getting longer from now on, between 8,000-10,000 words, sometimes a little over that. I have a lot of plot to cover and Longing is going to be long enough as it is, not word-wise obviously, but in chapter number. I hope y'all don't mind. :)

And on to the morgue!

**Chapter 19**

oOo

_September 2080_

BPOV

_-Flashback-_

_I left Churchill Downs to return to the Jones' house at ten after 8, staying with Wildfire for as long as I could since I knew it was the last time I would ever see him. It would take me about twenty minutes to walk back to their house at a typical human pace, and since Rafe got off of work at 8:30 pm, getting there around that time would give me a few minutes to prepare to put my plan into action._

_As far as plans go, it was pretty straight forward. According to all my research, Lydia had never reported the abuse. Because of this, I had to get it on record but I was going to leave Mr. Conroy out of it. The thing was I couldn't just go to the Louisville PD and tell them the things I had discovered. Since I was under suspicion of violating the Safe Citizens Act, my word wasn't exactly golden at the moment and I hardly expected to be taken seriously. There was also the fact that Rafe and Lydia Jones were well-respected foster parents. Mr. Conroy wasn't the type of man who would just dump me in the first foster home that popped up with an available space. He would have done his research and made sure I went to a place he thought would be the best one to care for me until he got my situation resolved, so that had to mean that the Jones' looked like stellar caretakers on paper. This meant I had to do something drastic, something the police would not be able to ignore, but something that couldn't be traced directly back to me. It had to be something that would force an investigation, one that couldn't be dropped or half-assed, and during my time with Wildfire I had come up with that something …_

_Any more thoughts I might have had or plans I might have made flew out of my head as I walked closer toward the Jones' house. I had just turned onto their street, taking the time to soak up the sounds of Louisville at night - sounds I would likely never hear again - when I heard Rafe shouting. From the slur of his words, it was clear that he was drunk, but he wasn't supposed to be off of work until 8:30 pm. What the hell was he doing home and when had he had time to get drunk?_

_"Fucking hell," I cursed, picking up my pace._

_"This is all your fault!" I heard Rafe growl, presumably to Lydia, as I was ten houses down. "I gave you what you fuckin' wanted after the hysterectomy, filled this house with kids, but it's never enough for you is it? I work my ass off to give you and the fuckin' kid, and all the other kids that aren't mine, everything and this is what I get? Always in my fuckin' way, always givin' me shit! Why the fuck do you think I drink?"_

_I heard the telltale sound of fist meeting flesh - Lydia's face if I had to guess from the loud crack of the blow. That sound was generally only made from the impact of bone on bone. The cracking noise that followed confirmed it. He'd fractured her cheekbone._

_I was two houses down at that point and couldn't wait any longer._

Fuck it,_ I decided, completely abandoning the pretense that I was normal and taking off in a flash of movement that a regular person would only have been able to register as a blur._

_"Don't you fuckin' cry, bitch," Rafe growled again. "I lost my job because of you-"_

That explains why he's home early.

_He didn't have a chance to finish because I had burst through the door. It banged open, bouncing off the wall hard enough for it to rebound back and slam shut. Racing into the living room, I stood there for a moment, taking in the scene before me. Rafe Jones was six feet tall and built similarly to Emmett Cullen. To anyone else he would definitely have been frightening in his rage. Lydia, who was in a heap on the floor, her hand pressed to her swelling and bloody cheek, certainly found him so. Her husband was hovering over her with his arm pulled back in preparation to hit her again. He didn't have time to turn toward the doorway to see what the commotion was before I shot forward, ripping him away from Lydia, twisting his right arm painfully behind his back and shoving him up against the nearest wall face first._

_"How about I make _you_ cry, asshole?" I hissed, pulling up on his arm until he grunted in pain._

_"Who the hell are you?" Rafe managed to get out even though I had his face pressed so hard against the wall his teeth were digging into his lips. The smell of whiskey on his breath was strong, stinging my nose._

_"The newest addition to your family," I answered derisively. "Welcome home, Daddy."_

_"Let me go you bitch," he demanded as well as he could with his mouth so hindered, "or I'll make you and you really don't want me to do that."_

_Rafe was really making my plan a hell of a lot easier to implement, and it was moving along quickly too; which was all the better for me. The idea had been to provoke him into beating on me rather than his wife or the kids, and to provoke him so strongly that he wouldn't be able to stop himself until he'd beaten me badly enough to put me in the hospital. It would take quite a bit of doing on his part considering what I was, especially since he was drunk, but just as I had done with Rosalie Cullen, I would pick apart his weaknesses and insecurities and use them against him. I was certainly good enough at goading people that I knew I could get him to do it even if that wasn't a talent of mine. Once I was taken to the hospital, no matter what story Rafe came up with to cover his ass, the emergency room doctors would be able to tell he was lying through his teeth. There was a difference between injuries incurred from beatings, those obtained from falls, and those a person got from any other type of accident. Doctors were trained to be able to discern those differences. Plus, he would have evidence of his part in my condition that he wouldn't be able to hide. There would be cuts, bruising, and swelling on his knuckles from all the blows he'd deliver, and I had every intention of hitting him in the face once or twice to draw attention to him and his involvement. Plus, hitting him would be downright fun. Mr. Conroy would be notified immediately when I arrived at the hospital and I knew he would do anything I asked of him. I would request to make a videotaped statement right then and there since I wouldn't be there to testify against my attacker, and as soon as the doctors, nurses, and he would have left me alone to give me a chance to rest, I would slip out of the hospital and leave Louisville behind just as I'd planned to do nearly twenty-four hours before._

_Of course, I did have a back-up plan. If I couldn't provoke him into attacking me quickly enough for my taste, I would have injured him in such a way that he'd never be able to hurt anyone again. It would have involved his spinal cord, quadriplegia, a wheelchair, a nursing home, a catheter, and a never-ending river of drool leaking down his chin for the rest of his life. I really did prefer my original plan since it included the very real possibility of him becoming someone's bitch in prison. His playing into the original one had been easy, so call me a happy camper._

_"Please do try," I said, my voice an unmistakable taunt. "I just don't think you can do it. See I'm not your ninety pound wife or any of the little kids in this house."_

_"Those are brave words for a _little girl_," Rafe responded with a drunken laugh, emphasizing 'little girl' to piss me off and then jabbing his free left elbow back into my stomach._

_My immediate instinct was to react to his show of aggression but I didn't. It went against everything in me - my very genetic code, and it took every bit of willpower and restraint I could muster not to do it._

This is going to be harder than I thought,_ I mused._

_Instead, I let my muscles relax so that the blow took the wind out of me and pushed me backward off him. I watched as he spun around, a smug and rather sadistic smile on his face, as if landing one hit proved he had what it took to make me believe he wasn't pathetic._

_I rolled my eyes, but waited until I was no longer gasping to speak again. Emphasizing the fact that I was absolutely unimpressed wouldn't have been nearly as effective if my voice was still hoarse from lack of oxygen. I smirked at him, "That all you got, jackass?"_

_Rafe snarled and came at me swinging, surprisingly coordinated for a man with a .13 blood alcohol level, which was the scent of the alcohol ratio in his blood. As his fist flew at my jaw, I didn't bring my forearm up to block the punch and as it connected, I let my head snap to the side, purposely stumbling with the impact. I found myself again noting how odd and unnatural it felt not to fight back. Generally, if I didn't block a punch it collided with my face without so much as making me flinch or I used the momentum of the blow to spin around and return an offensive strike of my own. I had only ever not blocked one for training purposes, just so I would know what to do if I ever couldn't but since there was no one else like me, I didn't see that happening, and this didn't count._

_The hit didn't hurt. It felt like a quick jab of pressure to my face and I'm sure it hurt him, but I flinched noticeably anyway. A big part of this plan depended on how well I could act as he was beating the shit out of me. Lydia had to believe I was afraid for my life and in serious pain. She would already assume I was to a certain extent since she'd suffered abuse at his hand before, but I still had to sell it. The kids had to believe it too because this fight of ours was sure to draw their attention. Some of them would probably cower in their rooms pretending like it wasn't happening. It was a coping mechanism, one I was glad for since I didn't want them to have to see this whole thing, but if any of them did venture out to see what was going on, they still had to unequivocally buy my victim act. It wasn't the right time to let him think I was afraid though, so I turned back to my attacker and continued to bait him, "You punch like a little bitch!"_

_The blow to his ego worked wonderfully to further enrage Rafe, and he dove at me, knocking me off my feet. I landed on my back, hard, with him on top of me and he kneed me in the kidney which was a particularly tender spot to hit ... on anyone else. On me it twinged, with him as the aggressor anyway. He landed two more blows to my face: one to my right eye and one to my nose. They were jarring but he hadn't yet succeeded in drawing any blood._

Shit! He needs to draw blood!

_I wasn't bruising or bleeding yet and if I didn't start looking like a raw piece of meat soon, Rafe may run out of the stamina required to get me that way. I closed my eyes and concentrated, once again irritatedly thankful to Project Apotheosis for all the abilities they'd blessed me with and the skills they'd taught me, taking control of my heart rate and blood flow. If I could manage to push more of my blood toward the surface of my skin, every punch and kick he delivered would burst enough capillaries to form some nasty surface bruising and make me bleed like a stuck pig if he ever managed to hit me hard enough to break skin. Once he accomplished that, I'd just have to make sure to keep my heart rate and blood flow slow enough to prevent myself from healing too quickly. The more slowly my heart pumped the blood through my body, the longer it would take for all the stem cells in my blood to start fixing the damage._

_"I think you're overcompensating for what obviously is _not_ in your pants," I sing-songed raspily, presumably from the knee to my kidney. "Translation: your dick is so small it takes a microscope to find it."_

_Rafe roared and let loose a flurry of punches and when he wasn't using his fists, he was using his knees to punish every part of my body he could reach. I felt the mildly dull ache as bruises started to form and the sting of skin splitting open. Hot blood started running from open wounds._

Finally we're getting somewhere.

_"You feeling better now, Rafey?" I spat. "Does beating on a teenage girl make you feel like a man? News flash, you've gotta have balls to be a man so I guess you'll _never_ be one."_

_He let out another furious howl and wrapped both hands around my throat, squeezing for all he was worth. I couldn't let him choke me out, not that he really could unless I allowed him to. I could hold my breath for twenty minutes without losing consciousness, but there was the minor likelihood that my less than perfect health might bite me in the ass during this little showdown, especially since he was trying to cut off my oxygen supply in such a dramatic way. On the other hand, a crushed trachea would definitely land him in hot water by the bucketful once I was carted off to the hospital. I let artificial fear cloud my eyes and I knew he saw it from the way his smile both brightened in delight and darkened in menace as he held me down. He must have squeezed for a good minute, choking me with all his might before my trachea started to give. That was when Lydia finally decided to do something to help me._

_"Rafe no!" she cried in horror, rushing toward us. She placed her tiny, ineffectual hands on his shoulder and pushed without moving him a centimeter._

_At the feel of her hands on him, he removed one of his from my throat to backhand her across the same cheek he'd hit earlier, sending her flying away from him and crashing to the floor, unconscious. I took his distraction as an opportunity to slide my legs underneath his and up toward my chest. Then I pressed my feet against his sternum and pushed with a fraction of my strength and power. Rafe was the one who went flying this time, shooting three feet into the air and several feet away from me. He crashed into the coffee table, the impact of his 260 pound frame cleaving it in two with a deafening crack, leaving him dazed and from the wholly new and distinct smell of blood that filled the air I knew he'd been injured._

_Now that he was off me, I staggered to my feet, fighting against the residual dizziness I'd been struggling with the last two days, and made my way to Lydia's side. She wasn't supposed to try to help me. She was supposed to stand idly by, her backbone relaxing in a hammock in the Bahamas for the duration of my confrontation with her husband. Thankfully, her pulse was steady though her already swollen cheek was darkening to an even nastier shade of purple, her eye was now swollen shut, and blood was still pouring down her face. Still, I checked the rest of her over to make sure I wasn't overlooking anything. I knew a lot about field medicine and assessing damage._

_Rafe recovered much more quickly than I'd expected him to because the next thing I knew, I was getting hit upside the head with a cast iron skillet. Had I been normal, that blow would have cracked my skull open like a walnut in a fucking nutcracker, and it did make me see stars; which was another thing that should _not_ have happened. I had to say I'd really underestimated him. I knew he was an abusive douchebag, but I hadn't pegged him as a man capable of murder. He had struck me as too cowardly for that. When he took a second swing, arcing the skillet up under my chin in the way he would have if he was delivering an uppercut in a boxing ring, it jolted me off my feet and I went crashing into the wall. I slid down to the floor and didn't get up._

_I lost track of what was going on around me for a little while as my head spun, and I felt like I wanted to throw up._

What the fuck?_ I may or may not have said this out loud. No matter what he'd hit me with, Rafe Jones was not strong enough to disorient me. I knew this from experience. The only plausible explanation for the fact that he had was whatever had fucked me up the night I'd been arrested and, as if the thought of it brought it on, I felt warm blood trickling out of my ear. I don't know how long I lay there, not quite sure what was going on. It could have been seconds or minutes; either way I thought it was odd that Rafe hadn't descended on me like a buzzard on carrion._

_Vaguely I heard moaning, screaming, the colliding of flesh against bone, and the breaking of it. Luckily, the stars and dizziness had cleared enough for me to launch myself back into the fray, but before I could do that, I needed to see what the hell I had missed._

_Lydia was still a lifeless mass on the floor from where I was standing but she was in a different spot, a new bruise blooming across her collarbone, which suggested that at some point she had gotten back up to try to defend me._

The woman's made of tougher stuff than I gave her credit for.

_Elizabeth was standing protectively over her mother, her lip split and bleeding, and her arm was hanging at an unnatural angle. It was broken. Tears were streaming down her face as she begged, "Daddy please stop!"_

_I came up noiselessly behind him and called, "Hey Rafe!"_

_He spun around to face me and I raised up on the balls of my feet, whipping my right leg up and around in a windmill-like motion, my foot striking his face hard enough to knock him off his feet but not hard enough to snap his neck even though that idea had crossed my mind. I had to admit after seeing the condition of his wife and daughter, I had seriously considered it. When he hit the floor, he slid across it and into the open kitchen. I didn't turn to see if I'd knocked him out._

_Closing the remaining distance between myself, Elizabeth, and Lydia, I knelt down next to the little girl who was shaking in terror._

_"Help my Mommy," she begged, her sage green eyes that matched her mother's perfectly so miserable it broke my heart. "Please."_

_I nodded at her, the motion hurting my head, "I will."_

_Lydia's pulse was racing but the isolated chemical smell of adrenaline in her blood told me it was nothing life-threatening. I felt her collarbone gingerly, hating myself when I confirmed what I'd already suspected. It was fractured and I should have been fucking there to protect her from it._

What the hell is _wrong_ with me?

_Other than that and the wound to her face, she would be fine; facing quite a bit of pain for the next few weeks but fine. Having concluded this, I reassured Elizabeth. It took some convincing but eventually she believed me, especially since Lydia was coming to._

_Mari ventured tentatively into the living room just after this, clearing her throat. It was clear from the look on her face and the hoarse tone of her voice as she quietly said, "I just called 911," that she'd been crying. Then she continued with, "They said they'd be here in five minutes. I'm sorry I didn't call sooner but I was trying to keep the others calm."_

_"It's okay," I told her, my tone consoling, as I smiled at her. "Please go back upstairs and continue to do that. Do not, under any circumstances, let any of them come down here, okay?"_

_Mari nodded and disappeared back up the stairs._

_I then turned to Elizabeth to examine her wounds. Her lip was worse than I'd initially thought. In addition to the split skin of her bottom lip itself, the indentation of her bottom row of teeth, some of which were loose, was cut into the flesh half an inch below the opening to her mouth. It was a mess of blood and mangled flesh and it was no wonder she was crying. The arm that was broken was her left, and from what I knew of broken bones, she had a compound fracture in the upper part of her humerus. I could set the bone right there but thought it best to wait to let a doctor do it._

_I was so focused on tending to Lydia and Elizabeth that I didn't hear Rafe come up behind me until Elizabeth and Lydia simultaneously shrieked, "Jane!" and I felt the sharp prick of a knife piercing my skin and sliding through the flesh between my fourth and fifth ribs until the hilt was flush with my skin. He pulled the blade out, that of a paring knife I believed, with a vicious swipe that ripped the wound upward in a jagged slash about 3 inches long._

_"Son of a bitch!" I gasped in surprise, my eyes going wide._

_My skin was thicker than a typical human's, like kevlar in a way, but I'm not bulletproof by any means. It could ward off glancing blows from knives with the end result of bruising instead of flesh wounds, but I was not immune to the direct downward force of a sharp, pointed weapon wielded by a person intending to stab me in the way Rafe had. It took more 'oomph' but it could be done as the puncture wound in my chest could attest to._

_Whipping around, I came face-to-face with the man who had just stabbed me. He was smirking in triumph and I was beyond done with this. I punched him in the jaw with crushing force, shattering it, and targeting the nerve that would send his brain to oblivion long enough that I could try to figure out what the hell to do now._

_The fucker had nicked an artery in addition to puncturing my left lung, and I was losing blood at an alarming rate. That's right, I may be a genetically-engineered super soldier but I still bled like everyone else. I healed exponentially faster than a normal person, but it still took time and in order to heal I had to have enough blood running through my veins to kickstart the process since that's where all the stem cells resided. It was true my DNA was chock full of other regenerative properties but that wasn't instantaneous either, and at the rate I was losing blood it was unlikely that those properties would be coming to my aid in time to do much good._

Shit!

_I stumbled toward the wall, using it to prop myself up. I wasn't at the point where I really needed it but that time was fast approaching and I needed to think quickly. My plan had been going swimmingly up until now. Rafe had certainly beaten me badly enough to require an investigation into whether or not he was fit to be a parent, and whether he ended up in jail or not, at the very least he'd never have kids in this house again. That didn't bode well for Lydia but at this point, I had to take what I could get. However, the bastard had just tried to murder me, so maybe I could try to make sure he got put away for that, and there was one way I might be able to pull it off - hibernation. If I combined the main elements of hibernation (lowering my body temperature, slowing my breathing, and lowering my metabolic rate), minus the fucking with my body temperature, with air tight control over my heart rate and blood flow to a minimal enough degree, there was a chance I could convincingly make it appear as though I was dead._

_I did have to stay warm at all costs though. Letting myself go into complete hibernation was asking never to wake up again and I had to keep as much warmth in my body as I could to help aid in keeping the blood flowing through my veins. Since it took a little while for dead bodies to cool down and I would likely be carted off by an ambulance immediately, I didn't have to be too concerned as to how my not so frigid body temperature might be taken by the medical examiner. As for the other elements, with the amount of blood I had already lost and the fact that I had a punctured lung slowing my breathing would be a piece of cake, and with less blood to pump through my body it would be relatively easy to slow my pulse enough to make it seem as though my heart had stopped beating. As long as I got a flawless grip on the flow of the remaining blood in my body to make sure I didn't lose much more, which I wasn't sure was actually possible, I might have a chance of getting out of this alive and succeeding in getting Rafe thrown in jail for murder. I was aware it was a long shot but I was willing to risk it to make sure this asshole never got a chance to hurt anyone again, and if my last thoughts were of him making special friends with Roscoe the weightlifter in prison I'd go to the afterlife happy._

_I let my knees give out, crashing to the floor in a bloody heap, my limbs splayed out in uncomfortable and unnatural angles. Choked, gurgly breaths escaped my lungs and Lydia and Elizabeth rushed to my side._

_"Jane!" Lydia and Elizabeth cried in synchrony, tears streaming down their faces. "Jane!"_

_I coughed once, my breathing going into overdrive before I shifted into hibernation mode and let my body shut down._

_-End Flashback-_

And that is how I ended up in a cold storage unit in the University of Louisville Hospital morgue with a tag marked "Jane Doe" looped around my right big toe.

oOo

I had been biding my time in this damn cold storage unit for an hour since I had started reflecting on the events that had gotten me here. All those events had done was reinforce the convictions and rules I'd developed and religiously followed since I had escaped Project Apotheosis: do not trust anyone and do not form attachments. While I didn't regret the things I'd done to help Shiri, Lydia, Elizabeth, and the other kids, even the most minor violations of those rules in the past forty-eight hours had blown up in my face so catastrophically I was surprised there was anything left of me. In actuality, there really wasn't much left of me seeing as how I was dying and all. My imminent death was the only plausible explanation for the fact that I was freezing.

I only had to wait another ten minutes before I could begin to carry out the plan I'd come up with to get myself out of here. That was when the morgue attendants were supposed to switch shifts and the person relieving the current attendant on duty had called to explain that they would be thirty minutes late. The current attendant had gotten permission from their boss to leave at their regularly scheduled time since they had kids and, since it was the middle of the night, their supervisor had felt the morgue could be left unattended despite how busy they had been; thus, presenting me with my window of opportunity. So I mustered all the strength, energy, and fortitude I still possessed, pulled myself out of hibernation mode, and prepared to take action.

For the first time in my life, I was only going to focus on _this_ strategy. Was I still thinking three steps ahead? Of course. That was a trait I couldn't just turn off, but I was only going to worry about surviving this for now because I really only had the stamina to concentrate on one step at a time.

Step One: Wait for the morgue attendant to leave and get the fuck out of this cold storage unit.

As I heard the door to the morgue slam shut and the sound of the attendant's footsteps fading as she walked down the hallway, I turned slowly onto my side. I pulled my knees to my chest carefully so as not to stretch my wound, rotated so that my head was now at the door and then stretched back out so that I was now lying on my stomach. Five other bodies had come into the morgue besides mine that night and that wasn't including the deaths of people that had already been checked in as patients at the hospital. Because of this my autopsy wasn't scheduled until 9:00 am, which worked out well for me. Otherwise, I would have been butt ass naked. As it was, the only things that had been removed were the tracking anklet and my shoes, and the feeling of the tag looped around my toe was fucking disturbing. If it wasn't for the bracelet I never took off, I'd have been left with no other option than to break the lock on my icy, coffinesque prison, and if I had to do that it would complicate things. Needless to say, I was thankful I had access to something with a sharp point. It made things less complicated and in this case, the less complicated things were the better.

Now that I was facing the right way, I pressed in the locking mechanism on my bracelet, releasing the clasp that held it together and studiously ignoring the Omega tattoo that it covered on my left wrist. The bracelet was titanium and had been custom made so that the inside was curved to fit the shape of my wrist exactly while the outside edges extended past my wrist a little and were squared off. It had special properties that allowed for modification if my wrist size changed - a rather brilliant invention on my part. It was two and a half inches long and half an inch thick with hinges on the top and sides to give it a semi-fashionable appearance even though it served a far more practical purpose. The bottom of the bracelet, the part with no hinges, had a hollow space in the center where a blade was hidden. Once pulled free, all I had to do was twist the middle section in the opposite direction of the one closest to the blade and the one at the bottom so that handle didn't curve, and I had a very effective weapon that was highly concealable. The bracelet served other purposes as well, but I didn't want to think about those at the moment.

Once I had locked everything into place and gotten a good grip on my knife, I wedged the tip of the blade into the crevice between the wall and the door of this godforsaken drawer, starting at the bottom and sliding it upward until I felt the resistance that indicated I'd hit the point where the lock was located. I hoped it was the latch type because that would make my life so much easier.

_Note to self: research all types of morgue cold storage unit locks._ If I ever found myself alive in a morgue again, at least I wouldn't be blindsided.

After I wriggled the blade in a little farther, I applied pressure until I heard a pop and the door cracked open. I let out a relieved breath - the first real breath I'd taken since I had come out of hibernation and it fucking hurt. I really was not a fan of punctured lungs.

Pushing the door the rest of the way open, I gripped the wall and pulled so that the gurney glided forward smoothly. I put a little too much force into it, causing the gurney to shoot out a little too fast. When it hit the end of the wheel track, it slammed to a stop with a resounding clang and started to retreat back into the compartment. I had already propped myself up into a sitting position and swung my legs off the side to put my feet to the floor, so the friction of my toes against the linoleum kept me from getting pummelled by the still open door as the gurney creeped back toward it. Then I dropped my weight onto the balls of my feet, needing to see if I was still capable of standing upright. My knees were a little wobbly, but they would hold.

I twisted my bracelet back into its shape and slapped it onto my wrist. Turning back toward the box I'd spent the last several hours of my life in, I studied the shiny, stainless steel surface, checking for blood or any other evidence that this particular unit had been occupied recently. Thankfully, it had remained clean so I pushed the gurney back inside and shut the door, satisfied when the lock clicked into place.

I had to pause to rest after that. Any form of exertion screwed with my control over my heart rate and blood flow and if I wanted to make it out of here alive, which I did, I couldn't let that control slip. Plus, all the exertion wasn't exactly pleasant in my current condition. I was once again simultaneously grateful to Project Apotheosis for teaching me to power through shit like this and so bitter because of it I could hardly see straight. Well, the not seeing straight part could have had more to do with the fact that I was nearly exsanguinated, but I was still bitter.

It took me thirty seconds to regulate myself, and I lost a little more of the blood I still had left in my body than I'd anticipated I would.

_Fuck!_ I cursed, wanting to panic but refusing to let myself. _You can do this Bella. You _can_!_

Twenty-seven minutes ...

Step Two: Make myself presentable.

By the time I'd carried out the bulk of my plan, if I hadn't dropped dead, I'd need to look relatively human to tie up the loose ends and actually escape. Even without seeing my reflection, I was reasonably certain I could score a guest spot as a walker on _The Walking Dead_ at the moment. That had to be fixed. Scanning my surroundings, I noticed one of the male morgue attendants had left an oversized, black hoodie draped across a chair, so I snagged it and pulled it on. It was so long it hung just passed my mid-thighs, covering the most gruesome looking bloodstains and, as long as I kept the hood up, it would hide the mess that was my face until I could do something about it. Now I just had to make my way to the employee locker room without running into anyone.

_Good luck with that, Bella._

Knowing I didn't have any time to waste on thinking about how many ways all this could blow up in my face, I inhaled deeply even though it hurt. The morgue attendant who had just gone off shift had worn a distinctive lavender perfume, so I homed in on that scent and relied on my nose to guide me in the right direction. Thankfully, I didn't run into anyone on my way there and the locker room was deserted save for one occupied shower stall.

Looking in the mirror was a nerve-wracking experience. The state of my face would tell me just how creative I'd have to get with a backstory and I was hoping for something more in the way of a short story as opposed to a novel. I couldn't help but grin when I saw that aside from some very faint, almost nonexistent yellowish bruising under my left eye and the blood that was still crusted to my hairline, I looked pretty fucking normal. My DNA had come through for me after all.

_Halle-fucking-lujah!_ I cheered on the inside. The giddy laugh that bubbled up in my chest and gurgled painfully reminded me that what it had come through for me on paled in comparison to what it had really needed to. It was sobering.

Taking advantage of the time I had in the locker room before the person in the shower finished up, I started breaking into lockers by listening for when the pin clicked into the right numbers on the combination locks. I found one pair of scrubs in the second locker that would fit me decently enough, a pair of jeans and a t-shirt in the fourth locker that would be big on me but not obscenely so, and a pair of tennis shoes in the seventh one that were a half size too small for when I made a break for it. It was the the best I could do but it was more than good enough.

That taken care of, I stole a random towel, slipped into the shower stall furthest from the door and stripped down, turning the water to scalding and letting it cascade over me as I breathed as deeply and evenly as a person could with a damaged lung. I watched as the pink-tinted water swirled down the drain with fascination and a strange sort of detachment, twisting my neck so that I could survey the stab wound to my rib cage. As I had surmised at the time of the attack, it was jagged and about three inches long. It did show minute signs of healing but the reality was, it should have taken an hour, no more than two, to heal completely and it was pushing five since I'd procured it. I knew a nicked artery and punctured lung were injuries quite a bit more serious than any I'd had in a long time, especially without immediate access to medical attention by doctors that knew my background, but remove the fact that they were damage to vital organs and they were essentially just glorified cuts. On a scale of 1 to 10 on the quickness to heal factor they ranked at a 3, if that … easy-peasy.

_What the fuck is _wrong_ with me?_ I'd lost track of how many times I'd asked myself that in the past two days, which was also troubling. I didn't forget things.

My heart rate and blood flow hadn't gotten any more difficult for me to control, which was a good sign, but standing under the blistering heat of the water wasn't taking the edge off the chill in my bones. I couldn't think about that though. I had to keep going.

Shutting off the water, I quickly scrubbed myself dry, careful to pat my wound gently. Then I pulled on the scrub pants but not the shirt, instead going with the hoodie. My wound was still oozing droplets of blood and I couldn't afford to get the scrub shirt stained. After that I slipped my feet into the shoes, tossed my old, ruined clothes in a plastic biohazard bag I'd pilfered from the morgue before I'd come to the locker room, and then made my way back to it to continue on with my plan.

Twenty minutes ...

Step Three: Bandage myself as best I could to prevent as much blood loss as possible and so that any blood that did leak from my chest wound didn't soak through my clothes.

The best thing really would have been for me to stitch the wound closed, but that would only have taken care of the surface problem. Plus, it was in too awkward a place for me to be able to manage it in a reasonable amount of time. I had to settle for taping it closed with surgical tape and wrapping several layers of gauze tightly around my rib cage. Then I applied several more strips of tape so that if blood managed to worm its way through the initial layer of tape and soak through the gauze it would be harder to stain my clothing. Then I pulled the scrub shirt over my head. It was a difficult and awkward task but I managed.

Eighteen minutes …

Step Four: Peruse the records of all corpses logged into the morgue within the last week and hope like hell that there was another unidentified woman who was _actually_ dead somewhere in this cold and miserable place.

It took the scanning of four pages … _Hot damn that's a lot of bodies for a week_ … before I found one that was actually remarkably similar to me in height and weight as well as how she'd ended up here - a stab wound to the abdomen. She remained unidentified because the tips of her fingers had been removed. Without fingerprints, that was how she would stay.

Luck was apparently with me today, not just in this but in how smoothly everything else had gone thus far. Some people would say it was God's doing but I do not. I wasn't sure if God existed, but a lot of people thought he did so I was inclined to believe his existence had at least some merit. According to the reading I'd done on religion, he loved all of his creations unconditionally but since I had been slapped together in a Petrie dish and not conceived like a normal person I had a hard time believing that applied to me.

Sixteen minutes ...

Step Five: Alter all documents, both paper and digital, pertaining to me and Jane Doe so that, essentially, she became me on all hospital records; and then erase all evidence that she'd ever been in the morgue in the first place.

Because of my background, I was an expert forger so it wasn't hard for me to do this and do it quickly; and that's a good damn thing.

The fact that the morgue had been swamped to the point where they were out of space as well as understaffed, as I had also overheard earlier, meant that there was a good chance no one would ever notice the changes I'd made; especially since they were flawless.

Nine minutes ...

Step Six: Liberate Jane Doe from her icy confines.

This was the easiest thing I had done so far but things were about to get a million times more difficult.

Jane Doe had blonde hair and even though she was cold and lifeless, that y-shaped incision carved into her chest and abdomen looking gruesome beyond all belief to me right then, I could tell she had been pretty in life. I could also tell that her life had been troubled from the faded track marks on her left arm. Looking at her face and knowing what I was about to do, I felt unbearably sad and more than a little sick; that sickness having absolutely nothing to do with my current condition. I gazed at her for much longer than I should have but I couldn't tear my eyes away. She deserved much better than what I was about to do, and I would try to make up for it as much as I could, though really, there was no way I'd ever be able to.

"If I survive this, I'll figure out who you are," I promised her, stroking her hair. "I'll figure out who did this to you and you will get your justice. I'll find your family too. I'll make sure you are remembered and mourned, no matter how long it takes. I'll never forget you and I'll always be grateful to you for this. I am so, _so_ sorry."

I felt an errant tear slide down my cheek as I pressed a kiss to her forehead and gripped her wrist, taking her fingerprints so that I could fulfill my promise to her. Her fingertips weren't needed for me to duplicate them. As long as the rest of her hand remained intact, that didn't matter. Then I slipped the toe tag that had been mine around her right big toe.

Five minutes ...

Step Seven: Forge a cremation authorization.

Again, the fact that the morgue had been so swamped meant that mistakes were much more likely to be made. Jane Doe, as me, being erroneously cremated was plausible, and the lack of a body wouldn't hurt the murder case against Rafe Jones. There had been ample crime scene photos of my body taken, and Lydia and Elizabeth had witnessed the stabbing. I'd also learned as I lay there, mostly incoherent and pretending to be dead, that the neighbors had come over to see what was going on. They'd heard the commotion and gotten worried, and when they'd knocked the door had come open without preamble since I had broken it when I'd burst into the house in my haste to get to Lydia after hearing the confrontation between her and her husband. They had walked in the living room just in time to see Rafe sticking the knife between my ribs. The guy was fucked, body or no, and there obviously _couldn't_ be a body.

There was a special place reserved for me in hell. I knew this. I had always known it and in all likelihood I would soon be inhabiting it. I was also pretty certain said place would be decorated with creepy kitten figurines and tea cozies as part of my punishment. I would deserve it. The sick feeling in my stomach told me so.

Two minutes … I had two minutes to spare before I could go any further with my plan.

I sank down into the chair the hoodie had been draped over to rest. I was so fucking tired.

_Just a little longer, Bella. You can do this,_ I chanted. _Just a little longer._

The male morgue attendant who should have been there thirty minutes ago walked in precisely when he swore to his boss and coworker he would, stopping short when he saw me.

"Who are you? Are you new?" he asked curiously.

I smiled at him and steeled myself to speak without sounding like I had a punctured lung. "I'm not new. I work in a different department. Your boss asked me to keep an eye on the place until you got here," I lied impeccably, thankful that I managed not to sound too out of breath.

"Oh," he said, a slightly guilty expression clouding his features. "Have I missed anything important?"

I shrugged, "Not really. I couldn't do much besides make sure any bodies that got brought in were checked in properly since this isn't my department and I'm not authorized. Thankfully, we didn't get any new residents," I said. Then I purposefully walked over to a stack of paperwork, on top of which was the forged cremation authorization, picked it up and held it out to him. "Your supervisor did want me to have you take care of this as soon as you got in though. We don't have anymore room down here, and apparently he was given permission to cremate the body. I couldn't do it because, like I said, not my department."

The attendant took the paper from me, studied it for a moment, compared the toe tag to the number on the sheet, and then nodded. "Alright."

Moving to the gurney with Jane Doe on it, he wheeled her out of the morgue and toward the cremation chamber.

I didn't stick around after that, heading to the lobby level of the hospital, avoiding the security cameras like the pro I was, finding the nearest handicapped bathroom, and swapping out the scrubs for the street clothes I had stolen.

Then I got the fuck out of there.

oOo

I was dying. There was no deluding myself into believing that I wasn't. I was bone tired, I'd only gotten colder, and since I'd come out of hibernation I hadn't stopped losing blood. Add to that that my limbs were locking up and my vision was turning hazy around the edges, and denial was not a land I could live in.

There really was no hope that I was going to survive this and I found that I couldn't decide how I felt about it. I suppose I didn't really care one way or another anymore. The only thing that I did feel was a sense of relief. There would be no more running, no more worry, no more fear, just peace. It sounded nice but there was one thing I wanted before I died. I wanted to see Wildfire one last time. His kind eyes were what I wanted to see as I took my last breath, so I rallied all my remaining strength and determinedly made my way to his stable at Churchill Downs.

I don't remember how I ended up in a heap in the hay that was layered over the dirt floor of Wildfire's stall, but that didn't really matter. All that did matter was that I was looking into his warm brown eyes just as I had wanted to, but they looked sad. I hated that they looked sad.

"It's okay buddy. It's okay," I said in a choked whisper, wanting to offer him some comfort, and barely feeling him nudge my leg with his nose and then nuzzle my neck.

I don't know how much time passed or if what I heard next was real; but it sounded as though Wildfire shrieked, spooking, and then disappeared from my view.

The last thing I registered before I died was that the moon was very bright.

oOo

**A/N: **Well guys, that was it.

This was another very difficult chapter to write for many reasons. I didn't enjoy writing a grown man beating up on kids, his wife, or a teenager, no matter how able-bodied Bella is. Trying to envision what Bella's thoughts might be during her ordeal, coming up with the most plausible strategy for her to escape the morgue despite the fact that the whole situation is not the least bit plausible, attempting to convey more of the type of person Bella is in the right way, to capture the emotion she's feeling in as best a way I could, to write my first action scene and still make it exciting even though Bella didn't really fight back ... it was all a huge undertaking, and I worked my ass off on it. I have poured my heart and soul into every chapter of this story I've written, especially this one. I wanted to do this part of the plot and the character of Bella I envision the justice they deserve. I hope I did that and that the conclusion of this part of the plot met any expectations you may have had. I am definitely pleased with it and hope you are too.

'Roscoe the weight lifter' is a _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ reference. I am referring to the TV show, not the movie, because when you compare the two, the movie sucked ass. In case you haven't previously come to this conclusion, I watch entirely too much TV. As much as I like movies, I just prefer TV. There are just so many more opportunities for character development and evolution when it's done right. _Buffy_ was my was definitely done right and it was my favorite show as a teenager, it still continues to be an all time favorite, and Angel and Spike are the reason I'm hooked on vampires. :)

Bella sure has been through the ringer, huh? The cliffhanger is kind of evil but admittedly awesome ... to me, at least. Any theories?

I certainly would love to know what you think of this chapter.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer, but her characters are fun to play with so I'm making them do my bidding for the foreseeable future. Jasper as the God of War and Peter 'just knowing shit' are ideas that belong to IDreamofEddy.

An enormous thank you to my beta and friend Laurie Whitlock, my pre-reader Shadman, and Shelljayz, my sister, who is a mixture of both.

I say thank you every week to everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed. I mean it every week, of course, but I'm beginning to find that 'thank you' doesn't quite feel like a strong enough phrase for the gratitude I feel. Unfortunately, it is going to have to suffice. :)

Alright, so I've anointed myself Queen of the Dumbasses. That sickness I mentioned last week, perfectionism? It struck again. I was making a couple of changes to chapter 18 and accidentally posted chapter 17 twice. A huge thank you goes out to GoddessxNyte for pointing this out to me. I have now fixed it and chapter 18 is where it is supposed to be so if you are a reader that came along when I was in the midst of my idiocy, and would like to go back and read the chapter you missed, it will be there. I am now going to do my best to let things be or at least be dreadfully careful if the sickness strikes again. For everyone interested, my coronation as Queen will be next weekend. :)

Now that the morgue is behind us, we must move on to other things! It's been awhile since we've heard from Jasper. What do you say we get inside his head for a bit?

To recap: Jasper is confused by his reaction to Bella. He doesn't yet understand that what he's feeling is the mating bond. He's stubborn and irritated by his confusion and left Louisville to go to visit Peter and Charlotte in Texas.

**Chapter 20**

oOo

_September 2080_

_One Week Later …_

JPOV

The past eight days had been both better and worse than the five weeks preceding them. My visit with Peter and Charlotte had been comforting, their company familiar and reassuring. It had been nice. I couldn't deny that, but it hadn't helped as much as I thought it would, as much as it usually _did_. It did nothing for my restlessness but their presence had grounded me, made me feel more like myself than I had in a long while. More importantly, it took my mind off the human girl which was really what I needed more than anything, and it brought me a sense of relief I hadn't known I'd been craving.

Peter and Charlotte were much more perceptive of my moods than the other members of my family, which wasn't to say that my vegetarian "parents" and brothers and sisters were clueless, but Peter and Charlotte had known me at my worst both when I was at my most evil and my most broken. I had never been able to hide anything from them; whereas I had managed to shield the Cullens from those parts of me. It wasn't that I was lying to them. They knew about my past and who I was, but I'd never given them any details from that time in my life. Those weren't things they needed to know. If I could have afforded Peter and Charlotte that luxury I would have. I would do anything to give them that, in fact, but there was nothing I could do to erase their knowledge of the Southern Wars and who I had been. At the same time, I didn't want to change it since I'd still be in that fuckin' hell hole if not for them. Because Peter and Charlotte knew every part of me so well, it didn't matter if I was putting on a Pacino caliber performance to cover up a massive decline in my mood, they, Peter in particular, always knew when something with me wasn't right. I didn't know if Peter's ability to see through me came from being my second-in-command, brother, and best friend for years or if it was because he just knew shit. I suspected it was a little of all of it. As for Charlotte, well, she just had this way of looking at you and seeing shit you didn't want her to see. It wasn't a gift in the way that I can feel and manipulate emotions or that Edward can read minds and put his thoughts into people's heads; it's one of those freaky chick things that no man could ever figure out or explain. And so, Peter and Charlotte knew almost immediately that something was off with me when I showed up on their doorstep.

Even though I had been relieved to finally get to them, my head had still been all out of sorts from my encounter with Paige. It wasn't that I wasn't fine, but I _was_ confused as hell. On top of that, the itching and the ache in my chest had amped up again, and it was pissing me off. I didn't talk about any of those things to either of them. I didn't mention Paige at all. I might have right after she left Forks and the memory of her had started driving me crazy. Peter was the only person I would have trusted enough to share that with and ask advice about the situation but the fucker hadn't answered his goddamn phone. Charlotte hadn't either and I was now passed the point at which I was willing to talk about it. It didn't matter anyway. I would never see her again. Maybe I hadn't fucked her but I had gotten to touch her, and that would be enough to get her out of my head and my system for good. Paige Donnelly was now a nonentity to me. That made me feel better.

Peter and Charlotte hadn't been entirely convinced that I was back to normal though, so when I headed home to Forks last Sunday morning they came with me. I had been happy about it at the time, despite my annoyance at the concern they tried to hide. I missed them and I had been willing to put up with that if it meant I could have them with me.

Now, seven days after they had joined me in Forks, I was seriously reconsidering my choice and taste in family members.

Emmett and Peter were seated at the dining room table, both with giant platters of hot dogs (twenty apiece) before them. It was their latest dare - to see which one of them could stomach the most human food before they made themselves sick. It wasn't unlike a human eating contest, only I imagined for vampires it would be a hell of a lot more fuckin' uncomfortable. This particular foray into jackassery had been Emmett's idea and it had been inspired by the breakfast we'd had with "Storm" six weeks ago.

I rolled my eyes, _Fuckin' idiots!_

That was Emmett and Peter for you though. They were both extraordinarily good humored and whenever they were together dares abounded and an inevitable prank war ensued. It was one of the reasons they had taken to each other so quickly when I joined the Cullens with Alice in 1984.

"Don't expect Charlotte and I to clean the two of you up when you vomit all over yourselves," Rosalie stated flatly from her seat next to my offspring/sister across the table from them. Despite her harsh tone, Rose was really quite amused by the whole thing and also looking forward to seeing how it would play out. We all were. There was always decent entertainment and a good time to be had when my two goofball brothers got together. Of course, there was an element of disgust to Rose's emotions as well, but that was another thing we all had in common. I mean really, who liked dealing with regurgitated food? Especially vampires who thought human food was disgusting whether it was whole or partially digested.

Now Rosalie and Charlotte were a much different story than Emmett and Peter had been. It had taken them a couple decades to warm up to each other and, surprisingly, that was just as equally Charlotte's fault as it was Rose's. Charlotte was a hell of a lot more easygoing than Rose was but she had always been very protective of me, God only knows why after the things I'd done to her, and didn't take kindly to how Rose had treated me at first. I, personally, had never blamed Rose for that and it wasn't like I took immediately to her either. A strange vampire had come into her home, a vampire covered in scars that screamed "Welcome to your painful death," and exuding an air of power that could not be denied. Rose had lived a sheltered life as a human until Royce King had shown her just how ugly this world could be, and though it had been decades since the night both he and Carlisle had brutally opened her eyes to that, in very different ways and for very different reasons, she had still struggled with it. She had been afraid of me, fuckin' terrified, as she should have been. I was still rough and, just like her, it took me awhile to trust people. People I didn't trust were a thousand times more likely to end up on the receiving end of my power and wrath, and I had never been shy about showing people what I would do to them if they crossed me.

For someone like Rosalie, who had only ever had the other members of her very passive-minded family as examples of what others of our kind were like, meeting me had been a shock to her system. Oh, she _thought_ she knew because of how she had struggled with the innate urges our natural instincts brought out in us, but struggling with that shit and meeting someone who had never denied them, someone who only recently had begun to be sorry for it all, was like the difference between night and sparkly fuckin' day. It was a good damn thing she hadn't met me forty years before. As the years passed though and she started to see beyond that side of me as well as my genuine desire not to feed on humans, her fear began to dissipate and her opinion of me began to change as mine did of her. We started to see how much we had in common. We were both fiercely loyal and stubborn, with hard shells to crack before you got to the heart of us. When you got passed the ice, Rose really did have a soft, marshmallowy center; and as her bitterness over what had been done to her, both by Royce and Carlisle, gave way to acceptance, she had become a woman much less angry, resentful, and difficult to be around. Her behavior toward Paige had more to do with her loyalty to and protectiveness of the family than it had to do with who she was as a person. Once upon a time, that would not have been true. We had also bonded over our mutual love of pissing Edward off. My relationship with him had been rocky for a very long time, decades in fact, because of my relationship with Alice.

Vampires were possessive bastards when it came to their mates and it had taken Alice a long time to figure out that Edward was hers. I had never felt that way about her on my end of things and she hadn't either but she had still believed that she and I were mates because of the simple fact that she had seen visions of us together and none involving herself and Edward. I think she thought that when I was ready to love her in that way that she would follow suit. Plus, she had always relied too much on her visions and because of that, her lack of sight when it came to her and Edward had helped her to ignore the pull she felt towards him, dismissing it for what it was. My theory on that was that there were certain events that her gift protected her from. It would only lead her so far before she had to figure things out on her own, the big, life-altering things in regard to herself, like Edward being her mate, because no one should have all the answers, and there were some things that just shouldn't be known instantaneously. Anyway, Edward hadn't liked watching the two of us together, especially the vivid visuals of us fucking, and his hostility toward me as a result had ended with several limbs parting ways with his body.

Rosalie had enjoyed that immensely. She and Edward truly were brother and sister in the respect that, even though they loved each other, they lived to annoy each other a lot of the time, and I was much better at pissing him off than she was. That was the only thing she had liked about me at the time.

Only when Rose and I had finally become friends had Charlotte begun to let her grudge go, and even then it had taken another decade for them to become friends. Now they were thick as fuckin' thieves.

Peter smirked at Rose, only eying Charlotte with his peripheral vision, "Oh, Rosie, my Char won't be able to resist cleanin' me up."

Charlotte rolled her eyes at her mate, "Pete, honey, I've been, for the most part, gladly cleanin' up your messes for damn near thirteen decades now but I draw the line at vomit, especially when you make it out like me cleanin' up that particular mess is gonna lead to some kind of sex. Let me assure you that that is _not_ goin' to happen, babe."

Edward, Alice, and I snickered at this, the former two in particular. Alice had obviously seen the outcome of their idiocy which Edward had plucked out of her head, their overwhelming amusement clearly suggesting this, but they weren't sharing. That didn't really matter though. The show would be just as funny to watch as it played out as it would be to see beforehand.

Edward, who was presiding over the whole thing, held up a stopwatch, poised to press the button and tell Emmett and Peter when to start. It was overkill if you asked me. It didn't really matter how fast the fuckers ate the hot dogs. It only mattered who made themselves sick first. Even so, he seemed to be stupidly excited about his role in it all so I wasn't going to voice my opinion about that.

He raised up the arm in which he was holding the stopwatch and brought it down in a slashing motion. "Aaannnddd go!"

Emmett and Peter immediately dug in, stuffing hot dogs into their mouths whole. Emmett wasn't really bothering to chew while Peter was chewing at vampire speed. Peter was being a lot smarter about the whole thing, really. When he got sick it wouldn't be nearly as uncomfortable for him as it would be for Em when he did.

Rosalie, Charlotte, Alice, Edward, and I were all cheering 'em on like we were watching some sort of demented sporting event. Alice was jumping up and down and pumping one of her fists in the air, taking turns rooting for both of them. Charlotte and Rose were rooting for their respective mates while Edward and I were mostly just laughing at the two of them with the occasional cheer thrown in.

Emmett ended up topping off at thirteen hot dogs before he couldn't stomach anymore while Peter could only manage twelve. Vampire stomachs didn't expand the way human ones did, so once they were full there was no shoving anymore shit down their throats. If it had been blood it would have been different since liquids were different than solids. If you drank too much all it did was make you feel sloshy.

The only problem was, even though they couldn't eat any more, neither of them appeared to be on the verge of getting sick. It wasn't that they weren't _feeling_ sick. They just weren't feeling sick enough to blow chunks. Either way, my amusement over their antics had abruptly died and I was now fuckin' pissed. Their nausea and revulsion was being projected onto me and it was turning _my_ stomach.

_Douchebags,_ I scowled, crossing my arms over my chest irritably.

"God_damn_, that shit is nasty," Emmett exclaimed, taking one of our rarely used linen napkins and wiping at his tongue frantically. I doubted that would help get the taste out of his mouth. Peter nodded emphatically in agreement and mimicked his actions.

"What the fuck did you expect, asshole?" I snapped, my anger mounting the more I had to endure the discomfort resulting from their stupidity. I had dealt with worse in my long life but that didn't mean I fuckin' liked it, and I was _not_ enjoying the queasiness.

Peter's gaze snapped to me, confusion radiating off of him as he studied me closely. I cocked an eyebrow at him, silently demanding that he tell me why the hell he was staring at me but he didn't acknowledge my demand; instead he moved his gaze to Charlotte, who also began to project confusion even though she didn't move her eyes to me. They stared at each other for several seconds, probably doin' that freaky mate mind-reading shit. Mates couldn't actually read each other's minds but they still always seemed to know what the other was thinking.

"Dude," Emmett protested, frowning. "What crawled up your ass?"

"Nothing," I said, doing my best to force a smile onto my face. "But seriously, what _did_ you expect? All human food is disgusting! You knew that before you shoved all that shit down your throat." I had succeeded in softening and molding my tone into something light and my efforts seemed to be successful since his bright grin returned and he shoved Pete's shoulder. It caused Peter to snap his gaze from Charlotte's.

His confusion lessened considerably, his usual mischievousness coming back full force. He shoved Emmett back hard enough to knock him clean off his chair and then raced outside, making sure to go far enough into the forest that none of Esme's carefully cultivated landscaping became collateral damage. Em recovered quickly and chased after him. The telltale sounds of wrestling and the upending of plants and underbrush filled the air.

The rest of us followed behind them, eager to watch them continue to make asses of themselves though I had mixed feelings about joining everyone else. Emmett and Peter still weren't feeling the greatest and I truly wasn't in the mood to soak that shit up. On the other hand, the prospect of watching them beat on each other until they puked was too tempting to resist.

Em was a fantastic wrestler. His size and strength were powerful assets but Peter had nearly five decades of battle experience under his belt so as good as Emmett may have been, his talent wasn't quite enough to best Peter's skill. No matter how many times Pete pinned him though, he didn't give up and he eventually did succeed in returning the favor even though it was only for a second. Peter got out from underneath him quickly, tossing him over his shoulder and into the tree right behind me. The impact didn't shatter the tree, though it did send a resounding crack that scared off all the wildlife echoing through the woods. That maneuver was the straw that broke the camel's back because the next thing I knew, my back was soaked with Emmett's vomit.

I'm not really sure what happened next. That part of my memory was lost to me, which happened sometimes when I lost control—a blackout of sorts. All I can really say was that a red hue clouded my vision. Everything after that was a blur. I don't know how much time passed between my lapse in coherency, only that when I came out of it, I had Peter pinned beneath me, my knees on either side of his ribcage, my hand so tight around his throat there were cracks in his skin, and my teeth millimeters away from tearing into his neck. It would have been a killing bite. An easy start to ripping off his head.

I pulled back suddenly, still with Peter pinned but my teeth away from his neck, my brows furrowed in confusion as I looked my brother and best friend in the eyes. He was looking back at me, red eyes eerily calm, like he knew I would never have gone through with it, but I was too busy trying to wrap my head around what had happened to process that just yet. Did I feel awful about what I'd nearly done? There was no question, but the full weight of it wouldn't hit me until later. Right then, all I could do was survey my surroundings in mild shock. Trees, boulders, brush, and animals had been demolished in a zigzag pattern that must have stretched out over a mile long from where we'd been before I'd gone schizo. Peter and I were covered in all the aforementioned things as well as mud and the blood of those animals, what was left of the clothes we'd been wearing mere scraps of fabric hanging in obscure places off an arm or a shoulder.

The rest of the family was not with us.

I was still confused, still looking into Peter's eyes, my hand still around his throat but not as tight, and frowning as I tried to make sense of things. He just stared back patiently.

"Jasper," he said, his tone devoid of its usual mischief but full of compassion and love instead.

The sound of his voice brought me back to my senses and I leapt backwards off him, landing several feet away, eyes wide in horror. I felt sick but I pushed passed it and made my way back to my brother, who was still flat on his back. When I held my hand out to him, I wasn't sure if he would take it. He didn't make me wait to find out, reaching up and grasping it without hesitation. I pulled him to his feet and once he was standing again, our eyes met. His were sad but understanding. I didn't know what emotions were in mine but my face was devoid of expression because at that moment I couldn't feel much of anything. At the same time, I felt everything.

Peter just gave me a slight nod of his head. It was his way of telling me I was forgiven.

I nodded back, knowing I didn't deserve it.

oOo

The next two days were uneventful. After standing in the shower until the hot water ran out as I tried to clear my muddled mind, I went on as if everything was normal. Like I was fine. I _was_ fine. I felt awful for nearly ripping Peter's head off but that _was_ normal.

Edward, Alice, Emmett, and Rosalie didn't really know what had happened so they didn't treat me any differently. Peter was the only one who had witnessed my insanity. Charlotte had known what was happening just as immediately as her mate had and while Peter had intercepted me, keeping me from tearing into my kind-hearted bear of a brother, she had handled the rest of the family. She was a quick thinker and Edward could no more read her mind than he could mine or Peter's thanks to a vampire I'd sired during the Southern Wars. That vampire was gifted with the ability to see the gifts in others, dissect the weaknesses in those gifts, and how to use those weaknesses to block their gifts or turn them against them. We had dealt with another telepath back then, so keeping him out of our heads had never been a problem for us. As for Alice, I didn't think in the same way I normally did when I was sane. It was all instinct when the monster took over though I'd spent enough time fighting for that instinct to be calculating and logical. Still, it was all reflex and no decision making, so my actions could not be predicted; thus leaving her blind. It concerned her but not so much that she would push me to talk about it.

I'm not sure what Charlotte had said to convince the others not to follow Peter and I; that everything between us was okay but she had. There was a certain amount of curiosity in their emotions when the four of them looked at me every now and again, but for the most part nothing had changed between us. I wondered what all of them would do, what they would say, if they knew the truth. I wasn't sure I cared.

When Carlisle and Esme asked what had happened to the forest, they were regaled with the hilarity of Emmett and Peter's digestive dare and the resulting wrestling matches. Our parental figures had succeeded in pretending not to be amused on the surface, but on the inside failed miserably, chastising the three of us and telling us we needed to be more careful about what we wrecked so as not to draw attention to anything strange that may or may not be happening in the area. We'd also been paid a visit by the Quileutes.

All in all, things weren't awful … with one exception. Carlisle had been depressed for days now. I didn't remember him ever feeling so down or so heartbroken before. He was constantly preoccupied, hardly ever spoke, spent a lot more time at the hospital, and when he _was_ home he spent most of his time locked away in his office. What was most concerning though was that he'd pulled away from Esme. No matter what was bothering him, he always turned to his mate for comfort but he was shutting her out just as much as he was everyone else. When I asked Edward if he knew what was going on with him, he couldn't give me an answer. Carlisle had been blocking him just as effectively as I could.

It was a mystery I was obsessively mulling over as I sat on the couch in my room, lazily strumming Charlotte Rose. Lately, losing myself in her music was the only thing that brought any relief from the ache in my chest or calmed the itch I couldn't seem to rid myself of. It didn't help much but I'd take what I could get. At least the restlessness had dimmed in the aftermath of my episode. I didn't understand why but fuck if I was going to question that shit when I was feeling mildly better because of it.

I didn't look up or stop playing when Peter and Charlotte entered my bedroom without knocking, waiting until I was finished with the song I'd been playing to acknowledge that they were there. They didn't seem to care.

I gave them both a small smile, one that my heart was only half into, before asking, "What can I do for you on this fine, gloomy Forks day?"

"Well, Major," Peter answered, calling me by that name for the first time since I'd nearly taken his head off, and grinning at me. "Char and I thought we'd give livin' in Forks a try. Figured you'd want to be the first to know."

I didn't try to hide my scowl. I knew what this was. We had known each other for too damn long for me not to. Even if it hadn't been more than a century, even if I hadn't been the one who'd created them, what they were doin' was fuckin' transparent.

"Woods," I snarled, my tone low and dangerous. "Now."

They followed without protest.

oOo

I hadn't stopped running until we'd traveled fifty miles from the house. I had been tempted to run all the way to Toronto just to alleviate some of the rage I felt but knew there was nothing that would help with that at the moment.

Peter and Charlotte had continued to follow me without a word.

When I did finally stop, I whirled around to face them and folded my arms across my chest. "Would the two of you care to explain yourselves?" I asked through gritted teeth, my back ramrod straight, and my tone as calm as I could make it.

Peter regarded me evenly, his expression still lacking its usual good humor. "You've never been a slow man, Major," he said, "and I know I stated myself pretty plain, but since you seem to be havin' trouble comprehending in this instance I suppose I can repeat myself. Charlotte and I are movin' to Forks."

My eyes narrowed. "Why the fuck would you do that?!"

"Because it's time for a change and what better place to live than where you are," Charlotte answered, speaking for the first time. She'd been unusually quiet the past two days. There had been no anger in her emotions but there had been an awful lot of determination. I hadn't thought about it much. Maybe I should have.

My eyebrows shot up in disbelief, "You expect me to buy that bullshit?! Like you said, I am not slow! You fucking hate it here! You hate that the sun hardly ever shines! You hate that it's almost always raining! You hate that there's nothing to do! Not to mention the fact that if you move here, it means no more feeding on humans, and you fucking _hate_ the idea of drinking animal blood!"

"There's plenty to do here," Peter said, his voice still irritatingly unchanged. "Whose eternity would be complete without sufferin' through the banality that is high school?"

My mouth dropped open for a split second before I snapped it closed and scowled again. "The two of you are gonna go to high school." I didn't have to phrase it as a question. His tone and emotions were resolute and I knew he wasn't kidding. Charlotte's determination hadn't wavered either. They were both on board with this.

"Yep," Peter confirmed, smirking.

"Umhmm," Charlotte hummed in agreement, a little smile on her face. There was a tinge of smugness there. Their answers were spoken simultaneously.

I did not find any of this amusing. Had the two of them come to me three months ago and told me this, I would have questioned their sanity but I would have welcomed the idea of them moving to Forks. I would have been ecstatic about the two of them joining all of us at Forks High. I mean, really, Emmett and Peter … together … in a high school. Think of the possibilities.

But this, this I did not fuckin' appreciate. "You think I don't know what you're doin'?"

"Haven't we already covered this?" Peter responded to my hostile tone, not afraid in the least.

I was getting really fuckin' tired of people not being afraid of me.

"I'm talking about what you're really doin'," I clarified, glaring, clenching my fists and still focusing my rage on Peter. "I don't need a fucking babysitter!"

"The hell you don't!" Peter growled, fuming, his glare just as nasty as mine but a sadness and worry in his eyes and emotions he couldn't hide. There was anger and frustration there too. All of it made me want to rip his head off. "See—that right there!" he exclaimed, jabbing a finger at me. "You want to rip my damn head off right now. I know you so fuckin' well I can see it in your eyes, but I can't _feel_ it! I should be on my knees right now, cowerin' in goddamn submission ready to kiss your feet just to keep ya from doin' it, but I don't feel it and you've been this way for a while. You haven't projected once in the past ten days! That's God of War shit, Jasper!"

Except for when I'd been a newborn vampire, I'd always been the Major. Maria had seen to that and when she was finished I'd continued to unconsciously develop and hone that persona on my own. The Major was a badass motherfucker, feared by those who had seen him fight. The only reason there was anyone around to tell those tales was because Maria had ordered me to let them go so they could. I hadn't always been the God of War. That persona was an entirely different thing, one that hadn't come along until a few years after I'd turned Peter, just after the fucker had crawled under my skin and had started to remind me that I had once been something else, some_one_ else - a soldier who'd fought for his country with pride and good intentions, a young man with a family and people he loved.

To really understand how my mind functioned, it's best to use a color code metaphor.

Jasper, the part of me that was closest to who I'd been as a human, was all about shades of gray. When I was solely Jasper, I could clearly recognize and even relate to, on some level, the emotions I absorbed through my gift. When I was Jasper I was capable of allowing my heart and conscience to color my actions. Jasper was capable of mercy and compassion.

When I was the Major, I operated solely in black and white. Either something wasn't a threat and I didn't touch it or it was a threat and I took it out. My thought process was cold, calculating, and logical and it was much more difficult to get through to me when the Major was riding my ass. However, if one knew how to play on that logic properly and provide an adequate emotional tether, there was a way to bring me back before I wreaked enough havoc to provoke the townsfolk, fully equipped with torches and pitchforks, into storming my castle.

When I was the God of War, nothing existed but black. Everywhere I went death and destruction followed like an incurable plague. Everyone and everything was fair game to me. It didn't matter if the other parts of me loved you or considered you family, you'd die in an instant if you happened to be anywhere in close proximity to me while I was on the warpath. Hell, it was even likely that I'd rip my own fuckin' mate to pieces if she got in my way. That's how far gone I was when that darkness took over. There were only two exceptions to this. Maria, for obvious reasons, was one of them though I doubted that would still be the case if we came across each other again. Peter was the other.

Since I'd left Maria and the Southern Wars behind I most commonly rode the line between "Jasper" and "The Major". It left me human enough to give a shit and vampire enough to still be a badass. I could switch into full on Major mode effortlessly if a situation called for it. There were times when that persona took over without my permission, which I fuckin' hated but had learned to deal with. The God of War was a different story. I had no semblance of control when I was him and the things Maria had put me through to create the God of War were so horrific I couldn't even put them into words, but I remembered them. I remembered every single fuckin' second of them, and she'd done it all by using my gift against me … all thanks to the vampire I had sired with the gift to see the gifts in others, dissect the weaknesses in them, and how to use those weaknesses to block their gifts or turn them against them.

Not projecting was one of the signs that I was truly losing it, that the God of War was looming on the horizon. I just stared at him, stunned, and he took it as an opportunity to continue his tirade.

"The Cullens may know about your past and who you are, Jasper, but _they don't really know_. No one who wasn't there can ever really _know_!" Peter said quietly but earnestly, venom and emotion shining in his eyes. "They cannot handle you like that but _I_ can. I am the _only_ one who can bring you back and you fuckin' know it, and when I do, you'll be broken just like you always are. I'll be the one to pick up the pieces because I'm the only one who can even if that means lettin' you rip me apart to do it and you fuckin' know that too!"

I gritted my teeth, my jaw tightening almost painfully and my glare growing murderous. He was right, I knew he was, but I couldn't say it outloud. I was too stubborn and wouldn't admit it. Admitting it meant I had to acknowledge the truth of what he was saying and I didn't want to.

"You can stand there glarin' at me all you want, threaten to rip my eyeballs out through my asshole; hell, go ahead and do it! It's nothing you haven't done before!" He shouted. I flinched at this, not wanting to be reminded of the things I had done so many years ago; especially to someone I loved so damn much. "So you can bitch and moan and whine but you're not gettin' rid of me _or_ Char. Deal with it, fucker!"

He crossed his arms over his chest in a display of stubbornness just as fierce as any of mine and glared at me. Charlotte came up to me then, patting my shoulder gently, her eyes filled with love but never pity. She knew how much I hated that and how condescending I thought it was.

"We're doin' this because we love you, Jasper," she said, her voice and emotions sincere. "We love you more than anything. We always have," she continued. "Besides, we're Whitlocks. We're meant to be together and not just for a couple months out of the year. If we've got to change our diet for a little while," she grimaced, "then that's what we'll do."

"And you have to admit," Peter chimed in, his smile having returned. "All of us together is gonna be fuckin' epic."

I sighed. Maybe when I had calmed down I could agree but I needed some time and they knew that. They left without me having to request it.

I started running again, heading toward the sound of rushing water and coming upon a river only minutes later. Luckily for me, just a mile from where I'd exited the treeline there was a rock not quite in the middle of the flow of water so I bent my knees, pushed off the ground with ease and landed lightly on its rough surface.

I did my best thinking to the sound of flowing water as I looked up at the stars and moon. It was quiet and peaceful. It made _me_ quiet and peaceful. It was an internal kind of quiet and peace.

I laid there for hours. At first I didn't think at all, just doing my best to let my mind go empty. After that I really analyzed things.

First and foremost, I had to stop blaming Paige for how fucked up I'd been lately. Maybe it had gotten worse since I'd met her but I had really started to struggle with all my shit again before that and just hadn't realized it until Peter and Charlotte had pointed it out. Yes, she annoyed the shit out of me. Yes, I fuckin' hated her, but she was not responsible for this and there was no use in blaming someone I was never going to see again. Second, Peter and Charlotte were right. I wasn't fine. I was on the verge of losing it and I wasn't sure why. If I did lose it I would need their help and I was going to let them, or I would at least try to because they were the only people who understood. Peter was the only person who could bring me back to myself and put me back together.

I regret a lot of things but I don't regret being a vampire. That didn't mean I wanted to be what I once was, what Maria had made me into. I would die before I let that happen so I wouldn't bitch or moan or whine about my brother and sister moving here. I would be happy about it. I _was_ happy about it. Having Peter and Charlotte around all the time _would_ be nice, it _would_ be fun, we _were_ meant to be together for more than just a couple months at a time. I had people in my life who loved me enough to go from drinking human blood to animal, which was like going from drinking ambrosia to drinking sewage, who would endure high school when they didn't have to, and live in the rain and gloom when they loved the sun. I was lucky as hell to have them and I was so fuckin' grateful for that. I'd also been blessed with the Cullens, and maybe they didn't understand me, but they loved me despite that and I was thankful for that too. Maybe my life wasn't perfect but it wasn't shitty. Maybe it was even kind of good.

oOo

**A/N:** There we have it! We still don't know if Bella survived her escape from the morgue but we do now know that Jasper has been struggling a hell of a lot more than he was originally thought to be. A little bit more of his past has been revealed and we've discovered he has not always been the God of War. Much of his confusion and denial over his feelings for Bella and his lack of recognition of the itch, ache and restlessness as the mating bond is directly related to _how_ he became the God of War. This will be explored in more depth as the story continues on. Poor, poor Jasper. Does anyone else want to give him a hug? I do. He wouldn't let me touch him, but I still do.

Also, Peter and Charlotte have officially entered the story in a big way! Is anyone else excited about that? I know I am. Oh, the plans I have for Em and Peter together in a high school! Can you imagine? I just could not resist and as far as I know, Peter and Charlotte going to Forks High as vampires has never been done so I thought I would give it a shot. :) I generally prefer Peter and Charlotte as human drinkers taking out the dregs of society but in this instance, for plot purposes, I 'just knew' that they would care more about being there for Jasper than they would about their diet, and it isn't a permanent change for them.

Fun little tid bit of information. One of the streets I take my dog for walks on is Voltera Place. It might not be the same spelling but I still find this kind of hilarious but also cool.

So, what did you think?

Up next ... Did Bella survive? You shall find out. ;)


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer, but her characters are fun to play with so I'm making them do my bidding for the foreseeable future. Jasper as the God of War and Peter 'just knowing shit' are ideas that belong to IDreamofEddy.

An enormous thank you to my beta and friend Laurie Whitlock, my pre-reader Shadman, and Shelljayz, my sister, who is a mixture of both.

Thank you again to everyone who has followed, favorited, reviewed or just stopped by for a visit. You all rock and I love you! :)

As I mentioned in the A/N at the bottom of the last chapter, I wrote an outtake for chapter 20. If you haven't read it, here is the link:

www . fanfiction - net / s / 8929858 / 1 / Outtakes - from - Longing. Replace the (-) with a period obviously. You really should read it. I will be posting outtakes periodically from now on in all points of view. They should be fun for the most part and will enrich the story as a whole. :) I will be posting one that will take place between chapter 20 and this chapter soon if not simultaneously. I suppose I can also ask if you would rather I just post the outtakes here instead of separately because they really are filled with pertinent information. I just can't add them to chapters for many reasons, so I would appreciate your thoughts on the matter.

One more thing before we move on to the good stuff. This is for the people who are seriously questioning why Jasper hasn't yet figured out that Bella is his mate. My response is to keep in mind that he has never thought of himself in the context of having a mate aside from noting that he doesn't want one. He's been around mated couples for a long time but because of his frame of mind, even though he's familiar with the signs, his mind isn't automatically going to go there. He'll figure it out when he's ready to. I'll tell you this. His continued confusion is a way of him protecting himself. How he became the God of War really does have a lot to do with why he hasn't figured it out yet and that whole thing was very traumatic. If he figures out what Bella is to him too soon, things will not go well for either of them. Also, read the second outtake, that will explain some things too. Be patient my dears!

And on to the good stuff!

**Chapter 21**

oOo

_September 2080_

_Two Weeks Later ... 8:30 am_

It was nearing the end of his shift and Carlisle had just finished his rounds in the hospital proper. The emergency room had been pretty quiet that morning but then, this was Forks. There were emergencies, of course, but there were quiet times too - a rarity in a more metropolitan hospital, but that was one of the things Carlisle liked about Forks General. Sure he could do more good in a larger, busier hospital. It would be easier to get lost in the background with so many other people and talented physicians too but in a small town like Forks there was less of a reminder of the mortality of humans and of the world in general. He could never forget the truth of it. He just didn't like to be reminded.

Sometimes Carlisle wished he didn't care so much. Then he wouldn't hurt so badly when he lost a patient, which was the current source of his melancholy. He had taken the loss of this particular patient exceptionally hard and his family was concerned. They had never known him to withdraw in this way and it truly had been a long time; long before they had come into his life. He was just glad he had so effectively been able to keep Edward out of his head. He loved his oldest son, but he needed to be alone in his grief, and if Edward saw the source of it he no doubt would share it with the others. It was best he kept this to himself. It was bad enough that Jasper was inadvertently sharing in it. His son would have helped to ease Carlisle's heartache if he'd asked, but he didn't ask. As miserable as he was, this was pain he needed to feel.

Needless to say, Carlisle was glad he was finished with his rounds. He wanted the solitude of his office. As he passed through the double doors that lead to the long hallway where his office was located, his nose picked up a scent that caught him by surprise. He picked up his pace, noting just how difficult it was for him not to race down the hall at vampire speed and just barely restraining himself from doing so.

As he reached the door, he took a deep breath that he didn't need for the purpose of oxygen but did so that he could center himself. He was feeling many things in that moment: nervousness, joy, confusion, relief, anger and so many other emotions he wasn't sure what to do with them all. He did know he had to walk into his office, he _wanted_ to, he just wasn't sure what would happen once he did. That was life though, he supposed - never truly knowing what would happen next. Unless, of course, you had an Alice. He wouldn't trade Alice for the world but sometimes he missed it; that unpredictability.

Carlisle opened the door and stepped inside his office and there, sitting on his plump suede sofa, was Storm. He couldn't help the wide smile that broke onto his face.

"Hello, Storm," he said, the happiness in his voice apparent.

"Dr. Cullen," she greeted with a little smile on her face.

Carlisle's smile widened. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

"Nor did I," Storm agreed, looking impassive.

Carlisle looked her over unabashedly, using his keen, clinical doctor's eye to study her condition and his nose to detect any sign of disease, internal bleeding, or infection. There were none and her condition seemed acceptable. He was pleased, relieved, and bewildered. "You look well for a girl who was on her death bed not long ago."

Storm's smile returned, bigger this time, a little sparkle in her eye as she said, "I had a good doctor."

_-Flashback-_

Three Weeks Ago ... The afternoon Bella was arrested ...

_Carlisle had arrived at work on Saturday to complete a forty-eight hour shift after he had returned from a trip with Esme to Alaska, one that hadn't included a visit to their extended family. It had been another time meant for just the two of them, and even if they had wanted to drop by the Denalis', they hadn't been willing to deal with the aftermath of Jasper's last trip there; which apparently hadn't eased much according to Eleazar and Carmen though it had been weeks ago. Jasper had always been very clear with his intentions. Tanya and Irina always claimed they understood and accepted them. They always lied._

_Alice was still shopping in Seattle but she had called around 1:30 that morning to tell the family that Jasper was making his way to Peter and Charlotte's in Rio Grande City, Texas. They owned miles and miles of land, ensuring for the most part that they wouldn't be seen if caught in the sun, and that land included a long strip of beach. Of course, being spotted due to the sparkle of their skin was much less of an issue for the three of them. Their scars subdued that physical characteristic quite a bit. They glowed more than anything and that wasn't nearly as noticeable if they were unlucky enough for a plane to fly overhead. At that point, Carlisle didn't care if an entire fleet of planes saw Jasper naked and sparkling like a dozen glitter bombs had gone off on him. He thought some sun would do Jasper some good and that was all that mattered. _

_Jasper had called around 11:30 am to tell everyone he'd arrived safely but hadn't lingered on the phone long according to Esme._

_It was now mid-afternoon and as soon as Carlisle stepped into his office his phone began to ring._

_"Hello," Carlisle answered in his most professional and polite voice._

_"Hiya, Doc," Peter greeted. His voice sounded bright just as it usually did but there was something different about it. Carlisle couldn't quite place what it was._

_"Peter," Carlisle greeted in turn, his own voice bright. He wondered what was wrong with the other vampire. There was only one way to find out. "How can I help you?"_

_Peter cut straight to the point. "You need to go to Louisville."_

_Carlisle's eyebrows rose. "Oh?" he asked, curiously. "Why is that?"_

_"I wish I could tell you, Carlisle," Peter answered, seriously. He sounded perturbed._

_"You don't know?" It was a rhetorical question. Carlisle wasn't sure why he had asked._

_Peter chuckled darkly, a note of irritation there as well. "Ironic isn't it? The guy who 'just knows shit' not _knowing shit_."_

_"Hmm," Carlisle mused, beginning to consider the reasons why Peter's gift might be malfunctioning._

_He heard the snapping of fingers on the other end of the line and Peter's voice sounded again, "Stay with me, Doc."_

_"Sorry."_

_"We don't have time for apologies. Your plane is leaving in three hours. You need to haul ass to Sea-Tac," the younger vampire told him._

_Carlisle opened his mouth to ask him a few questions but Peter beat him to the punch. "I took care of your flight and your hotel. Your cover is a medical conference in Chicago. Louisville is where you'll really be going obviously. There's a medical conference there too but the family and Forks General need to think you're in Chicago and, no, I don't know why."_

_"But Alice-" Carlisle managed to interject._

_"Alice won't see you. Her gift is acting up too," Peter informed him._

_"Oh," Carlisle answered stupidly. He wasn't sure what else to say._

_"The only thing I can tell you," Peter continued, getting back on topic, "is that it has something to do with a wildfire."_

oOo

Sunday

_Carlisle had been in Louisville for more than a day. He had attended the medical conference all day, only half paying attention to the lectures on new breakthroughs and presentations on cutting edge new machines, tools, and various other things that would make the running of hospitals more efficient and improve the quality of care provided to patients while continuously streaming the local news on his phone, listening through one nearly invisible earbud for any breaking stories on wildfires in the area. The medical conference was also a good place to collect supplies for any emergencies he might encounter, and he had most certainly done that. Peter had also booked him accommodations in a hotel just two blocks from the University of Louisville Hospital._

_Carlisle was beginning to wonder if perhaps the younger vampire's gift was more than just "acting up". He shook that thought aside. Malfunctioning gift or not, he had to put his faith in Peter. He had never led him and his family astray, and after all the things he'd done for Jasper, he deserved patience. Carlisle was a patient man but even he had his moments where his limit in that regard was breached. He would endure though. He always did. He just felt on edge and Jasper wasn't there to ease it. His son didn't always interfere, forever knowing when it was appropriate to use his gift and when it was not. In this situation, Carlisle imagined Jasper would take pity on him. Perhaps he'd gotten spoiled, maybe even entitled._

_It was half-passed two in the morning when Carlisle abandoned the televised news in favor of the good old-fashioned newspaper. Decades ago he had expected the newspaper to be a relic that one would only see in a museum by now, but the terrorist attacks and resulting war had so drastically changed things. There were some areas of technology that had made great advancements in the years since that terrible time; others had remained woefully stagnant. He and his family were continually donating money to fund the rebuilding of the things that had crumbled and advance the things that had come to a halt whether they were technological or not. It never seemed to be enough._

_At any rate, switching to the newspaper was the best thing he could have done. When he got to the sports page, the primary headline immediately caught his attention:_

**"Newbie Wildfire Becomes Contender For Triple Crown"**

_"Wildfire," Carlisle breathed to the empty room. "That has to be it."_

oOo

_Carlisle had grabbed his medical bag and raced to Churchill Downs, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, knowing that mode of travel would get him there much faster and keep his abilities hidden from the view of humans._

_The article had mentioned what stable Wildfire was housed in. Carlisle wasn't familiar with the layout of Churchill Downs but he had confidence he would find the horse quickly._

_When he got close enough, Carlisle no longer had to guess where to go or why he was here. The scent he had picked up had made all of that very clear._

_Rushing where his nose led him, he found her. Storm. She was barely conscious in the stall of a gorgeous thoroughbred racehorse that was clearly Wildfire. He looked exactly like he did in his picture. _

_The young girl Carlisle had come to care about so much in the course of only hours and had continued to worry over in her absence, was nearly dead. Her lips were blue, her chest barely rising and falling, the sound of a pocket of air pressing against her right lung. Her heartbeat was dangerously weak, the sound of the blood rushing through her veins ... well, it couldn't be described as rushing. There wasn't enough of it in her body to justify calling it that. That was one of the perks of a vampire being a doctor - he could smell just how much blood she had lost, and it was too much. If he didn't do something quickly, there wouldn't be anything he _could_ do, and he would not let Storm die._

_Carlisle leaped nimbly into Wildfire's stall, the horse shrieking and spooking at the presence of a predator, scooping Storm up and leaping back out as quickly as a flash of lightning. He needed to get her to a hospital, though he wasn't sure she would last that long. Taking care of her lung, thereby restoring the flow of oxygen to her blood, would buy some time but not much._

_Ripping open Storm's shirt, Carlisle saw that she'd been bandaged and that whomever had done it had known what they were doing. He cut the bandage apart too._

_Digging through his medical bag, Carlisle hurriedly pulled out a syringe with a good needle, inserted it into Storm's chest and pulled the plunger back, sucking the excess air out. At the prick of the needle, her eyes popped open._

_"Storm," Carlisle said calmly, in his best 'doctor voice'. He didn't feel calm though. He was afraid. The last time he'd been this invested in a patient was when he'd found Esme in the morgue in Ashland, Wisconsin, her heart beating just as faintly as Storm's was now. "It's Dr. Cullen. Do you remember me?"_

_As he spoke he continued to remove the excess air from her lung but kept eye contact with his patient. At this point he did not care if she figured out he was a vampire or thought he was Bigfoot. _

_Storm just stared at him but he saw clear recognition in her eyes._

_"You were unconscious when I found you so I didn't have to ask your permission to help you," Carlisle explained. "Now that you're awake, I have to ask you if this is okay. Please let me help you," he begged shamelessly but sincerely, venom gathering in his eyes._

_Storm reached up, grabbing his arm weakly, "No hospital."_

_Carlisle frowned, confused. Didn't she understand what was at stake? She could die and he told her this._

_"No hospital," she repeated as firmly as a girl in her condition could. Carlisle had half a mind to ignore her demand but there was a desperation, fear, and determination in her eyes that kept him from doing it. Instead he bundled her up in his blazer, and headed back to his hotel in the same manner in which he had come._

oOo

_Carlisle had placed Storm on the bed, cut away the rest of her shirt and the now dirty and bloody bandage around her ribcage, gazing at the stab wound clinically, and prepped the AED he had grabbed as they had made their way to his room. As soon as it gave him the all clear, he pressed the button that allowed the machine to deliver the shock. It helped to return her sinus rhythm to normal since she had been on the verge of cardiac arrest, but what she needed more than anything was a blood transfusion. _

_On their way back to the hotel he'd made a call to the University of Louisville Hospital, using his credentials and registration at the conference to request eight bags of type O negative blood as well as the equipment necessary for a transfusion, those for an I.V., a tube that would continuously drain excess air from her chest, and a small oxygen tank. From her scent, type O negative was her blood type. All he had to do was pick all of those items up. He had all the other necessary items to treat her in his medical bag. He hated to leave her alone but if he was to help her, he had to. Without that equipment he wouldn't be able to keep her alive._

_He had considered turning her. He wanted to but he wouldn't._

"You don't even know what my best interests _are_, and you sure as hell don't get to decide where I go, what I do, or how I live. Those are things that belong to me and me alone. You don't get to take that away from me. No one does,"_ she had said the last time he had seen her. He wouldn't be the one to take that from her. Not to mention that he had learned his lesson after turning Edward and Rosalie._

_Carlisle thought of all of this as he rushed to the hospital. When he entered he went directly to the nurse who ran the laboratory on the first floor, where he had been told his supplies would be waiting. For the first time, he was grateful for his vampiric beauty. He'd met these nurses the night before when he'd come in to volunteer while he waited for some sign of whatever it was Peter had sent him to Louisville for. His looks were the only reason everything he had requested was already gathered together and ready to go, and speed was absolutely essential to Storm's survival. It was also why no one had asked any questions about his unusual and more than a little suspect requests._

_Carlisle did not even bother to walk at a human pace, running back to the hotel with his __large duffle bag of supplies and cooler full of blood, and breezing through the front doors, up the stairs, and through the door to his own room in a blur. He did not care how any of the few humans awake at this hour had perceived his movement as he passed them._

_Storm was still alive when he returned but unconscious. That was good. He could work at vampire speed without having to explain himself._

oOo

_Carlisle had been sitting in one of the plush chairs for four hours now, having pulled it to Storm's bedside as he held her hand. He could have used a thermometer to take her temperature but he liked this way better. It was comforting for him to touch her. Even though he could hear her heart beating steadily, it was another way to assure himself that she was alive. She still had a little while before she fully completed the transfusion, but her condition was stabilizing._

_He had repaired the damage to her artery, lung, and the laceration to the skin and muscle, given her pain medication, had her on oxygen, inserted the chest tube and I.V., and then begun the transfusion. Her situation was still dire, she could very well still die, but her odds of surviving were much improved. Unfortunately, it had come to a point where Carlisle had to leave her again._

_Her body was burning through the anesthetic and pain medication at a vastly accelerated rate, and he hadn't been prepared for that. He needed to keep her unconscious and her pain at a manageable level. She had just had major surgery and excess pain could sometimes hinder the healing process. Granted, there had been very faint signs of healing; which he found odd. That really didn't matter though. She had nearly died, her situation was still touch and go, and she needed more sedatives and pain medication; so as much as he didn't want to leave her, it was necessary._

_When Carlisle returned, Storm was gone. Taking a deep breath, he pulled her scent into his lungs and went into tracking mode. It would be helpful if Jasper or Rosalie were her__e to help him with this. While he was a good tracker, they were better. Her scent went directly to the closed window. Wrenching it open, he pulled in another breath and ... nothing. The unusually strong wind of the morning had swept away any trace of her. _

_Carlisle cursed loudly, knocking the I.V. stand into the wall in frustration, satisfied when he heard the sound of it snapping; and then forcibly calmed himself. Giving in to his anger, fear, and frustration wouldn't help the situation._

_Carlisle would look for Storm anyway; he would rip Louisville apart until he found her. She had gone before her transfusion was complete and had just had major surgery outside of a hospital. He'd sanitized everything as best he could and he had absolute faith in his centuries as a surgeon; but the human body was a breakable thing on a good day. Today wasn't a good day for Storm. Her body was frail and already broken. It could not take any more strain or abuse. By leaving, she had signed her death warrant. _

_Carlisle had to find her ..._

_He didn't._

_-End Flashback-_

There was a part of Carlisle that was flattered by Storm's compliment, especially since it was a sincere one and she didn't seem the type to just hand them out. That part of him was small and existed at the very back of his mind. Right now he was angry, very, very angry. This girl had taken a huge gamble with her life and she was sitting on his couch as though it wasn't a big deal.

His eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms over his chest. His voice came out sternly when he spoke, "You did a foolish thing, leaving the way you did."

Storm had the grace to drop her gaze from his. "I know," she agreed quietly.

Carlisle had not been expecting for her to agree with him. He had expected an attitude, an argument, anything but agreement. Even though he was still immensely angry with her, he knew he had to tone it down. She was being reasonable now but he had no idea how long that would last.

"You should be dead," Carlisle informed her. "In fact, as I'm standing here, I'm trying to figure out why you're not."

Storm snorted, a hint of bitterness in her tone when she replied, "I have good genes."

She still wasn't looking at him so he had no idea what her expression might be but he found that bitterness curious. "It doesn't matter how great your genes are, you should not have survived."

Storm peeked up at him through her eyelashes. "You would be surprised."

Carlisle studied her for several long moments and the longer he did the more his anger gave way to his relief, joy, and happiness at seeing her alive. He had to make sure she knew those things.

"I'm glad you survived," he said, trying to convey all his emotions through his face, voice, and eyes. He wanted to hug her but he knew she had very strict personal boundaries.

Storm finally brought her eyes back up to his fully. He could see her own relief in them and in the smile that curled her lips. "I am too."

"As happy as I am to see you, I have to ask," Carlisle began, still studying her carefully, "why are you here?"

Storm didn't answer right away. He suspected she was choosing her words carefully. She always did. "I wanted to thank you for saving my life."

Carlisle believed she was grateful but he didn't believe that was the only reason she had shown up in his office. "Why else?"

Storm didn't look guilty or ashamed that he had guessed she had another motive for coming to see him. She looked almost relieved. Carlisle found that odd. "I have this necklace. It's the only thing I own that matters to me and I can't find it. I've looked everywhere but it's nowhere to be found. The last time I remember having it for sure is the night you saved me."

"And you think I have it?" Carlisle asked, eyebrows rising in surprise.

Storm shrugged. "I've looked everywhere else. Thought it might be worth a shot. Like I said, it's the only thing I own that matters to me."

"I haven't seen a necklace, but I can look for it I suppose," Carlisle said, unable to deny her.

Storm let out a relieved breath, "I would really appreciate that."

Carlisle smiled at her again, this time kindly, "What does it look like?"

He didn't need to ask. He remembered her necklace quite clearly as he'd had to remove it before he could deliver the shock from the AED, but it was something a _human_ would ask and he had to keep up appearances.

"It's silver with a phoenix pendant," she replied fondly, her eyes taking on a faraway look. She was somewhere else in those moments and Carlisle couldn't help but wonder where.

"My shift is over in an hour. When I get home, I'll go through my things," he assured her.

"Thank you," she said quietly, her expression and tone the most grateful it had been yet.

"And if I find it?" Carlisle queried.

"I _would_ come by your house but I'm not really in the mood to strip today," Storm replied succinctly.

Carlisle fought back another smile. "The kids are in school until two. It would just be Esme and I."

Storm contemplated this for several seconds before saying, "I suppose I can deal with her mothering today. She won't fuss too much will she?"

"I can't promise that," he told her, "but if you're afraid she'll fuss more because of what happened three weeks ago, you don't have to worry."

Storm raised an eyebrow.

"What happened in Louisville falls under doctor-patient confidentiality," Carlisle explained.

"Right," she said, nodding. "If I had been thinking I would have remembered that. So when should I come over?"

Carlisle thought for a moment. It really wouldn't take him long to search for the necklace and he would prefer that Storm come over sooner rather than later. However, he had to keep up pretenses and prepare Esme for Storm's visit. He could call her but he thought his wife would appreciate a face-to-face heads up more. "Come by two hours from now."

"Alright," she said, getting to her feet and holding out her hand for him to shake.

Carlisle looked at it in mild shock. He had never seen her attempt to initiate physical contact. Then again, he really hadn't known her for long and a good chunk of that time she'd been unconscious either due to sleep or injury. He took her hand tentatively, wondering if it was the right move to make. She gripped his hand firmly, her handshake strong but not excessively so. This didn't surprise him.

She was nearly to the door to his office when something occurred to him and he was too curious not to ask, "If you hadn't lost your necklace would you have come here or would I have gotten a letter of thanks?"

"A letter," Storm responded without hesitation.

Carlisle smiled. "At least you're honest."

Storm smirked just the slightest bit. "I heard it was a virtue or something."

He chuckled, "I'll see you in a couple hours."

She turned back around and curled her hand around the doorknob but made no move to twist it. Whirling around to face him suddenly, Carlisle noticed she looked a little nervous when she said, "Hey Carlisle?" His eyebrows shot up into his hairline and he beamed at her. Two months ago when he'd insisted she call him by his first name she had refused. "In a way I'm glad I lost my necklace. Don't get me wrong, I'll be absolutely heartbroken if I really have lost it, but you deserve better than a thank you note."

Carlisle wanted to smile wider. Instead he tamped it down and gave her a small nod.

She paused for a beat, her expression turning contemplative and a tad suspicious. "How did you find me anyway?"

Carlisle schooled his features, molding them into something he hoped looked innocent and patient. "You were moaning. I heard it."

Storm's brows furrowed, her suspicion deepening and coloring her tone. "Alright," she said, doubtfully, "but what were you doing at a barn at three o'clock in the morning? What were you even _doing_ in Louisville?"

Carlisle was very glad that he didn't have a heartbeat in that moment. If he did, it would have been stuttering. He couldn't tell her the whole truth and was suddenly grateful that Peter had given him an alibi that allowed him to give her at least some of it. "I was at a medical conference. As for your other question, I like horses and racing. It's a guilty pleasure of mine. I couldn't sleep and I read an article in the newspaper about a racehorse, a real up and comer. Wildfire was his name. I'm assuming since I found you in his stall that you are familiar with him."

Storm smiled softly, wistfully. "You could say that." The smile disappeared just as quickly as it had come. "Who was with you, there, in Louisville?"

Carlisle frowned, bewildered at why she would ask that. "I went alone."

Storm cocked a disbelieving eyebrow. That seemed to be her communication of choice this morning.

"The kids were here. They had school," he said, then amended it with, "except for Jasper. He was in Texas visiting his cousin. Esme stayed with the kids."  
Storm studied him for a long time, searching his face. Carlisle couldn't for the life of him figure out why.

"I believe you."

Without another word, she left.

oOo

_11:00 am …_

JPOV

Alice had gotten a vision of the sun coming out during third period so all of us had ditched school right after second ended.

Now all of us: me, Pete, Char, Em, Rose, Alice, and Edward were at home with Esme, waiting for the sun to inevitably disappear again. We would have taken advantage of the rare sunshine and gone hunting or just enjoyed the weather, but according to Alice, it wouldn't be out long enough to find much pleasure in it. Essentially, it was bein' a fuckin' tease.

That was why us guys had been having a four way video game war for the last forty-five minutes. The ladies were flipping through magazines or drawing or whatever. I wasn't paying the strictest attention to whatever girly shit was keeping 'em occupied.

In the next second, what they were doing mattered even less because that was when I caught _her_ scent. Paige fuckin' Donnelly. The girl I was never supposed to fuckin' see again.

_Motherfucker! What the hell is she doin' here?_

_"Is that-"_ Edward began.

_"Yep,"_ Alice answered, excitedly.

I found it both funny and annoying that we automatically slipped back into speaking through Edward's gift as soon as the human got within a mile of the place.

_"Is it who?"_ Peter asked, his curiosity piqued.

He and Charlotte knew all about Paige. It wasn't every day a family of vampires, vegetarian or carnivorous, housed a human, and Emmett and Alice wouldn't shut up about her when the subject came up.

_"Storm!"_ Emmett cheered, his inner voice just as loud and boisterous as his outer one. That was fuckin' annoying too.

_"Oh!"_ Charlotte chimed in, sounding excited. _"I'm glad Pete and I are goin' to meet her. She sounds like a firecracker!"_

_You have no fuckin' idea._

_"What the fuck is she doing here?!"_ Rosalie growled, eyes narrowed. I was surprised she had managed to keep those things confined to Edward's gift.

_My sentiments exactly._

_"Rosalie!"_ Esme snapped from where she was in the kitchen making some sort of fancy macaroni and cheese. Ever since the human had left, she'd been making food and dropping it off at the church, which doubled as Forks' version of a soup kitchen. Forks didn't have much need for a soup kitchen so Esme pretty much provided all the food for it. _"You_ will _be polite!"_

Yes, Rose had gotten quite the ass-reaming for her behavior the last time the human had been here and she was still furious about it. That was why she was the person currently poised to answer the door since the human was ascending the front porch steps, having gotten there before anyone could stop her. I certainly wasn't going to.

_You sure about that, Jasper? You couldn't seem to fuckin' help yourself the last time you saw her._ The reminder made me scowl. _She_ made me scowl. I had _almost_ forgotten how much the girl fuckin' pissed me off.

Rosalie's emotions weren't vindictive or gleeful this time but she certainly wasn't Susie fuckin' Sunshine either. Her annoyance, added to mine, set my teeth on edge and I ground them together. Despite the stern lecture she'd received from Carlisle and Esme, I hoped Rose would be as rude to Paige as possible so she would leave. I wanted her gone. She _needed_ to be gone ... for both our sakes. There was a little jerk in my chest at the thought of watching her walk away from me again and I frowned.

_What. The. Fuck? What is it about this girl that has me continually asking that?_ I definitely wanted her gone.

I just hoped that whatever Rose said or did didn't result in Paige stripping down to her underwear. I wasn't sure what I would do if she pulled that shit.

_No, that's not true,_ I reminded myself smugly, a smirk stretching my lips, _you got her out of your system in Louisville._

My dick still got hard thinking about her pressed between me and that wall though. I was glad I was wearing my usual boxer briefs and a loose pair of jeans. I casually moved my arm over the throw pillow pressed against the arm of the couch, where I happened to be sitting, and pushed it over my lap so that it was covering my not-so-little problem. I succeeded in making it look natural but no one was paying any attention to me anyway. They probably would have if I'd been projecting, but I still hadn't projected once since God knows when.

When the human's knock finally sounded, Rose only waited a moment before she opened the door, looked her up and down briefly and then demanded, "What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

None of us could see Paige from where we were. From almost everyone's emotions - Emmett's, Alice's, Esme's, Peter's, and Charlotte's - they all wanted to crowd around the door like eager, creepy idiots. Their excitement was rubbing off on me and it was pissing me off.

"Selling Girl Scout cookies," Paige answered without missing a beat, the sound of her voice causing that jerk again, "and judging by the size of your ass, you're obviously a fan." The sound of her taking a bite of something, presumably a cookie, and munching on it filled the air. The crinkling of plastic wrap came next. "Thin Mint?"

After hearing that, I assumed the sound of the plastic wrap had been Paige offering Rose a cookie.

Amusement exploded in the air around me. Peter and Charlotte were finding her dig at Rosalie particularly hilarious, grinning freely since Rose's focus was on our human guest and biting back snickers. Edward and I didn't bother to bite back anything. That shit was funny. Emmett's emotions told me he agreed but he valued his pussy privileges too much to laugh with us.

Alice was smiling too but because of that whole 'we women stick together' shit, especially when attacked about things like ass size, she refrained from any sort of laughing. Lord knows, making any sort of crack at Rose's ass was asking to be slaughtered. Paige was definitely still a pro at pushing people's buttons.

Rosalie's hands clenched into fists at her sides and her annoyance amped up to anger. There was also respect and, dare I say it, the tiniest bit of affection, another little crack having formed in the ice, but they were so deeply buried I doubted Rose was aware of them. If I hadn't been honing my gift for more than two centuries, I wouldn't have caught them either.

Emmett leapt from his chair and raced to Rosalie's side just a little too quickly. Esme had begun making her way from the kitchen as well.

"Storm!" Emmett boomed excitedly from next to Rose.

"Emmett," she said in greeting and then returned her attention to Rose, greeting my sister more formally, "Basic Instinct."

_"I like her!"_ Peter crowed.

_"She _is_ a firecracker!"_ Charlotte giggled, impressed.

Rose's fury grew and Emmett grabbed the human's hand, pulling her in the house and _around_ Rose.

I tensed at the same time Paige did, feeling the need to forcibly remove Emmett's hand from hers. I felt the beginnings of a growl building in my chest but she pulled her hand away from his, relaxing as soon as his skin was no longer touching hers. The growl died before it began. I scowled again.

"And who is this pretty little lady?" Peter drawled, looking Paige up and down critically. There was an equal amount of him sizing her up and dressing her down. Another growl began to build in my chest until Charlotte smacked him on the shoulder. No one noticed my ridiculousness. Thank fuckin' God!

_What the fuck is wrong with you? Get your shit together, Jasper!_

"Knock it off, Pete," Charlotte mock-scolded. "Run your mouth and let your eyes wander too much and you'll never find out."

Paige turned toward the two of them, still clutching the package of cookies, and studied them just the way she had all the rest of us the last time she had been here.

She wasn't wearing her necklace. I noticed because I was hyper-aware of her and that pissed me off too. I also noticed that I could no longer feel her emotions. It didn't make sense and it both frustrated and irritated me, not that I had ever been able to get a proper read on them anyway.

"This pretty little lady is of no consequence to you since she won't be stayin' long," she answered, mimicking Peter's accent perfectly just as she had mine in Louisville. It was fuckin' disturbing.

"Hello, Storm," Esme greeted warmly at the sight of the girl, finally having made it into the front room from the kitchen. All of this interaction had taken place pretty quickly. "Peter, Charlotte, this is Storm. Storm, meet Peter and Charlotte." Peter nodded at her much as I had when we met only he gave her a lazy grin on top of it, and Charlotte gave her a wide smile. "Peter is Jasper's cousin, Charlotte is his girlfriend, and they are the newest additions to our family," Esme continued. "You remember Edward," who smiled, "Alice," who yet again smiled, waved, and bounced on her tiptoes, "and Jasper."

She gave us all the same nod she had the first time we'd met, but when her eyes landed on me they weren't filled with challenge as I'd expected them to be. Her face may have been nonchalant, impassive, but those eyes were filled with a genuine hatred I still couldn't feel, that I didn't fuckin' understand. I honestly couldn't say it didn't bother me a little.

_It does _not_ bother you! _I insisted assuredly._ So she hates you. You hate her. It works out._

There was a surge of disappointment from Alice and Emmett at the fact that they were happier to see her than she was to see them. I didn't know what else they were fuckin' expecting.

"Couldn't resist adding to the family unit, hmm?" Paige asked Esme with a raised brow. "You and the good doctor plotting to take over the world and overrun it with pretty, golden-eyed, pale people?"

Esme smiled, not seeming the least bit worried about that little comment. It's not like she should have been. Paige was just one human and she would likely be taking off again soon anyway ... I hoped.

"You caught us," our mother-figure said, good-naturedly with just a hint of sarcasm. "What are you doing here, Storm? I didn't think we'd see you again."

"I figured Dr. Cullen would have told you," she said with a frown. "Then again, he told me the kiddies would be at school until two," her frown turned into a scowl. "Is he here?"

Right as Esme was about to answer, Carlisle's Mercedes pulled into the driveway with a squeal of tires and he rushed into the house without even bothering to shut his car door. When he passed through the front door, he didn't greet any of us, just went straight to the human.

"Storm!" he cried, his tone apologetic. "I got called into emergency surgery right after you left, a minor procedure as it turned out, and I wasn't aware at the time that the kids would be home when you got here."

Paige shrugged. "No worries, Doc. Shit happens, or so they say."

Carlisle smiled brightly at her. It was the first time he'd smiled in nearly three weeks. His emotions were lighter, happier, and freer as well. I didn't feel the added weight of his grief on my shoulders and was amazed at the change in him … amazed that it was this human girl who had brought it about in him when his own mate and family hadn't been able to. It made Paige even more of a fuckin' mystery than she already was but I no longer felt any inclination to solve that mystery. I didn't.

"Unfortunately, I haven't been able to-" he began.

Paige waved dismissively. "I figured."

Now it was curiosity that was the primary emotion clouding the room, mine included.

"I'll come back," she said. "Wanna give me another time frame, Doc?"

Carlisle looked thoughtful for a moment. before answering, "Give me another two hours."

"Sure thing," she responded, turning on her heel and walking out the door without so much as a glance or a goodbye to any of us.

I didn't like watching her walk away from me anymore this time than I had the last.

_Fuck!_

oOo

Carlisle had been in the shower for the past thirty minutes. It was an epically long solo shower for him and I knew he was using it as an excuse to avoid the family and all the questions that had been fired at him the moment Paige had walked out the door. His emotions were contemplative, determined, but his depression was still notably absent.

Another five minutes passed before he was dressed and standing before the lot of us, all seated at the dining table as he'd requested, seriousness bleeding out of him in waves.

"Carlisle?" Esme questioned, curiously. She was happy to see her mate coming back to himself but just as confused as the rest of us.

Carlisle met the eyes of each member of the family, and then resolutely said, "I want Storm to stay with us."

oOo

**A/N:** She's alive! You all knew she was. Sorry, I made you wait. :(

I hope you all liked the third person Carlisle-centric part of the chapter and hearing more of Jasper's internal ramblings. I wonder what craziness will ensue at Carlisle's declaration ...

Before any of you review and give me crap about Jasper not yet figuring out about them being mates please, kindly, read the outtakes. Also, as I asked at the top, let me know if you want me to post them separately or here. If you want me to do them here I will have to rearrange things to post them in order, so don't be surprised if you get a bunch of emails telling you've I've updated a bunch. There will only be one new chapter next week as always, but if you haven't read the outtakes, there will be more new stuff for you to read than just chapter 22. Thanks my dears. I love you all to pieces! :)

I always love to know what you guys thought of the chapter. Take care. :)


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer, but her characters are fun to play with so I'm making them do my bidding for the foreseeable future. Jasper as the God of War and Peter 'just knowing shit' are ideas that belong to IDreamofEddy. I do own the plot and original characters of Longing though.

An enormous thank you to my beta and friend Laurie Whitlock, and Shelljayz, my sister, who is both a pre-reader and beta.

I don't really want to post these here but since almost no one is reading these and they are important, I feel like I need to. I will never post an outtake in place of an actual chapter. If there is an outtake that goes with a particular chapter, they will be posted concurrently. Since this is only one chapter off and isn't really out of order, I'm posting these outtakes together. That makes it less complicated for me and you.

I appreciate all the readers that gave me their input on where I should put the outtakes. All of your input was very valuable. Thank you to those of you who followed, favorited, and reviewed the outtakes before I began posting them here. That is another thing I dearly appreciate. :) Sorry this is a repeat for you all.

Whereas chapter 20 kind of skips over what happens right after Jasper gets back to Forks, this covers those events ... particularly those that coincide with Bella's morgue experience and her time in the stable.

oOo

**Longing Chapter 20 Outtake**

_September 2080_

_Sunday_

JPOV

The drive from Texas to Washington wasn't pleasant. The prospect of returning to Forks was about as appealing to me as Emmett treating the second floor of the house like a fuckin' boy's locker room. He did treat the second floor of the house like a boy's locker room and neither stabbing myself in the eyes nor whipping out the brain bleach did a thing to erase _those_ visuals.

Peter and Charlotte opted to ride in Peter's Impala, knowing I needed the time to myself. Once we got home, I would get very little of it as well as next to no break from the assault of everyone's emotions; the emotions of eight individuals and four fuckin' mated couples. They were tagging along to keep an eye on me but they still knew and respected my boundaries. Of anyone, they could push me the farthest but I had my limits, even with them. They didn't want to push me at all … yet.

_Just give them time,_ I sighed in irritation. The two of them meant well but they were fuckin' annoying sometimes.

The family had left me alone while I'd been on my impromptu road trip thanks to Alice, but as soon as I pulled my Mustang into the garage that would be over. It wasn't unusual for me to take off for a few days. They didn't try to stop me per se, but they never just let me go without a word either. Alice's convincing them all to let me be and do what I needed to do sans comment on the matter was an anomaly. That meant things would be doubly gooey when I got home. Peter and Charlotte coming to visit would take the edge off some but I was still in for a mush fest with a side of sap, and I was sure Esme would smother me in hugs. I especially wasn't in the mood to be touched. I would let her, but I was not looking forward to it.

Needless to say, the further away from Texas I drove the more uneasy I got. Truthfully, the uneasiness had been mounting since I left Louisville. Even then I'd been dreading heading back home, despite my detour to Pete and Char's place. I had no doubt Alice would be on my ass the second I walked through the door, demanding I tell her why I had blocked her visions. It was yet another thing I didn't want to deal with.

The family did not disappoint.

oOo

Pete, Char and I got to the house just after 11:00 pm, cutting the forty hour drive from Texas by nearly two-thirds, and were greeted enthusiastically almost before we'd even exited our cars. Esme had hugs for all of us just as I'd predicted. It was Emmett's greeting that threw me off the most. He'd practically ripped the door off my Mustang, grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me in for a hug that would have had me doubting his sexuality if I hadn't been privy to so many of his and Rose's sexual exploits over the years.

I stood there stiffly, like a stone statue, my fists slowly clenching tighter and tighter. Part of me was amused at Emmett's display and the emotions he was giving off: relief, exasperation, impatience, a good-natured sort of horror, and his typical mischief. The other part wanted to rip him to pieces for getting into my personal space without giving me a chance to adequately prepare for it. I expected hugs from the women but Em and Edward never ventured further than one of those manly hybrid handshake/hug maneuvers that never brought a guy's balls into question. This was new. Any other time, I may have wholeheartedly found it amusing but the reprieve from Paige Donnelly's ghost Peter and Charlotte's presence granted me while we were in Texas had diminished some on the drive back to Forks, and I was still feeling uneasy, especially since my dread over the mushy affection was starting sooner than I'd expected and was coming from all sides instead of just the ones I'd anticipated.

"Thank God you're home, dude," Em said, tone displaying his relief as he squeezed me tighter. The closer circumference of his encircling arms was stifling, restricting, and I was so, _so_ close to snapping, ripping those arms of his off and beating him with them. I did not want this, to rip into my brother, but that was the feeling that was nearly overwhelming me.

Peter and Charlotte's keen gazes were on me, studying. Alice and Edward were watching me curiously but from their confusion, they didn't have any idea what was going on with me. No one else paid my reticence any mind. My dislike of touching was no secret. This pleased me but the thought that I would have preferred a slim, soft, warm set of arms struck me just after this. I gritted my teeth and nearly growled, ignoring the little thrill it brought. If I wasn't a vampire I would have ground my teeth down to nubs because of her.

I did my best to force all this from my mind and cocked a questioning brow at Emmett.

"Carlisle was at the hospital the majority of the time you were gone. Then he got snatched away to a medical conference in Chicago yesterday. Ali-Cat poon dazzled Eddie the moment you left," he explained with a sigh. "I have been surrounded by estrogen for nearly six days, Jazz, six damn days!"

Surprisingly, Rosalie was not offended by her mate's comment, observing our interaction casually but with no pity.

_That's my Rose,_ I smirked.

I lost my focus on my uneasiness after that, unable not to get caught up in amusement over Emmett's complaint.

Edward scoffed. "Says the guy whose balls Rosalie proudly displays in a Mason jar on the shelf above your bed."

Rose joined me in my smirking, everyone did, which I found fuckin' hilarious.

Emmett shrugged. "I'm pussy whipped. I would never claim otherwise but you took a goddamn text message during a Grizzly bear hunt, Ed! No self-respecting man, er, vampire, interrupts the sanctity of a Grizzly bear hunt by taking a text message from their girl, pussy whipped or not!" Edward rolled his eyes but Emmett missed it because he'd turned back to me. "I am in dire need of some testosterone and you brought Pete home with you! You're a god!"

"Careful, Em," I chided, "or we might start to think you've absorbed some of that estrogen."

Everyone snickered and Emmett scowled. "Fuck you, Jazz."

"No thanks, that's Rosie's job," I returned without missing a beat.

The snickering morphed into full-blown laughter, me joining in, and then the rest of the hugging and "welcome homes" commenced. I still didn't like it but it was easier than before.

oOo

It was three o'clock in the morning and I was out hunting. I hadn't gone for days, since day two of my trip when I'd passed through Colorado. I was thirsty as hell. I may have been doing well managing my bloodlust now, but I'd still waited way too fuckin' long.

I was tracking a mountain lion, had been for a mile, and was eager to close the deal. Despite this, I needed the hunt, to test my predatory skill. It wasn't much of a test and it wouldn't be a satisfying fight, but I couldn't be picky. I needed the stress relief, no matter how minimal, after all the shit that had gone down in the last days.

The mountain lion's instincts had yet to alert it to my presence. I was traveling down wind but I was about to change that. I wanted the animal to know I was there, that the predator was being tracked by one even greater than itself. I wanted its fear, its panic, to kick its survival instinct into high gear. First I wanted the flight, the chase, to stretch my legs though it wouldn't be to their full capacity. Then I wanted, no craved, the fight. It was cruel of me but I didn't care. It wasn't a human. I didn't _have_ to care. Besides, this lion had recently taken a human life. I could smell it on him so I was avenging this human ... or that's what I told myself. It didn't change anything. It didn't matter. I still didn't care. I felt nothing.

The mountain lion put up a better fight than I'd hoped for. We'd rolled all over the place and clothes were ripped all to hell. Alice was going to flip her shit when she saw me ... after she pried her naked ass from Edward's. They weren't clothes she'd bought for me but it was the principle of the thing. I did not give a fuck. She could bitch all she wanted.

I was headed toward one of my favorite river rocks to veg when it hit me. My knees gave out. I caught myself before I hit the ground but couldn't keep myself from stumbling. My foot hooked under a tree root and I went sprawling into a tree. I threw my hand out to brace myself so I wouldn't land against it face first or shoulder check it and bring it down. It was the uneasiness multiplied by a thousand, so intense I drew in an unneeded breath and then lost it as it was forced from my lungs by a foreign panic. The tightness in my chest contracted, as though steel bands had wrapped around it, digging into my flesh with the harsh, unforgiving twist of a vice grip. My fingers dug into the bark of the tree, breaching the surface with cracking noises that echoed through the forest. I did drop to my knees then, my nails carving fissures into the rough flesh of the redwood as I did it, trying to keep myself on my feet. I wrapped my arms around my middle, face planting into the dirt before the tree, my cheek pressed against the damp, cool soil. My breathing came shallowly and I was dizzy and confused. I couldn't think straight. I felt sick and lost and broken.

_What the fuck?_

oOo

**A/N:** There you have it, ladies and gents! That's everything Jasper was feeling at the time of Bella's brush with death.

What did you think?

oOo

**Longing Chapter 21 Outtake**

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer, but her characters are fun to play with so I'm making them do my bidding for the foreseeable future. Jasper as the God of War and Peter 'just knowing shit' are ideas that belong to IDreamofEddy. I do own the plot and original characters of Longing though.

An enormous thank you to my beta and friend Laurie Whitlock, and Shelljayz, my sister, who is both a pre-reader and beta.

This takes place in between chapters 20 and 21.

oOo

_Nine days after Jasper's episode ..._

JPOV

I was lying on a flat rock a mile off the coast of First Beach this time. It was just to the right of where the treaty line would have extended into the water if anyone would ever have bothered to think of it. The sound of the waves crashing against my rock was just as soothing to me as the currents of a river rushing passed me. The constant cloud cover of this godforsaken place had kept any bare skin from glowing and drawing unwanted attention.

I'd nearly attacked Rose three days ago. She had made some comment I didn't remember; as I so often didn't when I began to fall into the true danger zone.  
It was Charlotte who'd intercepted me that time while Peter covered for me with the family. I'd been here on this rock ever since.

Neither Peter nor Charlotte had come to me yet but one or both of them would and soon. They were giving me time to decompress and come to terms with what I'd done. I was still trying to accept that I was struggling again and though I had no memory of it, going after Emmett and coming so close to beheading Peter was haunting me every minute of every day. There was no reprieve from it, the guilt never-ending, and my inability to project wasn't helping. The added burden of my near attack on Rose was practically killing me.

Though our relationship had started out rocky, we were close now. Alice was my best friend but my relationship with Rose was special in a different way. She was my "twin," even going so far as to take my last name every once in awhile when we posed as brother and sister, and our bond was deep. I wasn't sure what I would be going back to when I returned home and as much of a pussy as it made me, I was afraid to find out. I didn't want her to look at me the way she used to, I didn't want any of the family to look at me that way. I didn't used to give a shit what people thought of me and for the most part I still didn't, but I cared what _they_ thought ... sometimes. When I couldn't feel anything I didn't give a fuck about anything.

It was Charlotte who came to me. Her head poked out of the water and she bobbed in the waves for a moment, observing me, trying to gauge my mood, before she hauled herself up onto the rock and lay by my side. We didn't look at each other, just stared up at the overcast sky.

We lay there together for several minutes, Charlotte letting me soak up her strength, peace, and calm before she broke our silence. That silence was uneasy at first, my hesitance to discover the state of things at home coloring the atmosphere, and that was rare for us but by the time she started talking we were back to our familiar comfortable quiet.

"You can quit worrying," she said. "I caught you before anyone really got a clue and Pete covered your ass brilliantly. I don't know how many more times we'll be able to pull that off though, Jasper."

I had already thought of this. My family wasn't stupid. There weren't any stupid vampires but some were smarter than others and every single member of my family was on the high end of the spectrum. I wouldn't be able to hide this forever. I was hoping that I would be able to get my shit together before telling them became a necessity.

"I know."

"Maybe you should just come clean," Charlotte suggested. Her voice wasn't nervous but her emotions had an anxious edge to them.

"No," I responded harshly. "I have worked my ass off to protect them from my past. I am not goin' to screw that up now!"

She paused for several seconds before she said anything else. "Why do you think they need protecting, Jasper?"

I was the one who didn't speak right away this time. "You, me, Pete, we don't see the world the way the rest of the family does. Our pairs of rose-colored glasses got lost in the mail when we were turned," I said. "I'm not sayin' they didn't have their struggles or that they still don't, but they've had something from the get go that we never did."

"Which is?" Charlotte prompted.

"Carlisle," I answered. "He was always there to give them love, guidance, and patience. He's always afforded them the luxury of bein' able to consider things from a perspective that takes right and wrong into account; whereas we always had to play by the rules of survival. For the longest time, right and wrong didn't exist for us because we had to play by those rules if we wanted to stay alive. That's not something they'll ever understand. Personally, I've always privately thought bein' so sheltered from the reality of our world was a cruel thing for him to do, but I get it, and I don't want to be the one that shatters that. I don't want them to know who I used to be. Peter's right. They may know but they don't _know_, and that's how I want it to stay."

"You should give them a little more credit," she said, thoughtfully. "I know the idea of tellin' them everything is scary but they aren't as delicate as you think. I believe they can handle it and my gut tells me they won't look down on you, on _us_, for any of it. We don't know how bad things are goin' to be this time, honey. We might end up needin' their help and if they know what you're dealin' with, the next time you start to lose it they might be able to save themselves instead of relyin' on Peter and I to do it for them."

"We both know that's bullshit."

"Yeah it is, but maybe it's time they start to learn how to manage you when you fly off the handle," Charlotte responded. "I'm not pressurin' you but I still want you to consider it. Promise me."

I didn't hesitate. "I promise." Then I reached up, tugging at my hair and growling in frustration. "I can't believe I didn't see this! How could I not have known?"

"It's not always cut and dried," she said. "You know that, and when you're not in your right mind, you don't always see what's starin' you right in the face."

"But I should have! The signs were there and I still didn't put it together."

"What do you mean?"

"I've been restless for weeks and my gift has been hit and miss for awhile. I've been achin', Charlotte," I said. "That happens when the emotions build up and can't be released. It's fuckin' miserable."

The itch was new but I didn't want to talk about that. The other stuff was bad enough, I didn't want to discuss the idea that I might have some sort of fucked up emotional herpes.

"I'm sure it is," she sighed sadly. "I can't imagine how miserable it must be but we'll figure this out."

"What if we don't?"

"We will," she promised resolutely, her confidence radiating out of her and enveloping me. "We always do."

I wanted to believe her. I truly did, so I soaked up her confidence like a sponge and basked in it.

We lay there for another two hours in comfortable silence before we made any more attempts at conversation. Curiosity, doubt, and a crushing demoralization had risen to the forefront of my mind in light of my reason for my self-induced exile in that time. I had a question that needed answering so this time it was me that spoke first. "Why are you still here, Charlotte?"

"Because you need me," she answered simply.

"No, I mean why do you bother with me after all the things I did to you?" I clarified. It may have been a question that needed answering but I dreaded what that answer would be. It was that dread that had kept me from asking it for the past one hundred twelve years.

"The answer to that question is both complicated and simple," she said.

"I'm fairly certain I'll be able to follow, Charlotte."

"Oh, I'm certain of that too," and she was. I could feel it. I could also feel her hesitation and wariness.

"You don't have to be afraid of me," I reassured her, but I think I said the words more for my benefit.

Charlotte turned on her side, propping her head on her hand. I did the same. "I haven't been afraid of you for a very long time, Jasper."

It was an honest statement, more honest than I'd been expecting. Charlotte wasn't a liar by any means but answering tough, potentially triggering questions like these was dangerous and though she believed in telling the truth most all the time (there really were times when the truth was more hurtful than helpful and a lie was kinder), she was cautious in situations that could go south in a fraction of a heartbeat; even if it was me. Then again, she _couldn't_ lie to me but it was still better to be cautious.

"Maybe you should be," I said, averting my eyes.

She waited until I returned my gaze to hers. "Maybe, but I'm not."

I let out a breath and rolled onto my back again, shutting my eyes and folding my hands on my stomach. Charlotte was still watching me. I could feel the weight of her gaze pressing against my skin.

"This is important to you," she stated.

"Yes." My voice had an embarrassing edge of desperation to it but I wasn't quite annoyed enough to castigate myself for it. I needed to know why.

"What if I don't tell you what you want to hear?" Charlotte asked seriously.

I frowned. "I don't know what I want to hear."

"You won't get anything but the truth from me, Jasper, nothing more, nothing less. Are you prepared for that?"

I turned my head to look at her, staring into her eyes for a long time. I planned to keep on looking no matter what she revealed. "I guess I'll find out."

"I didn't always love you," Charlotte began. Her tone was quiet but steady, her emotions sure. "After the bloodlust faded some and I started to come back to myself, there were times I hated you so much I fantasized about watching you burn."

I flinched. The honesty in her tone and emotions was brutal but I'd asked for this and I still needed her to keep going even though it was hard to hear.

"Whenever those feelings began to overwhelm me, Peter was there," she said with a smile. "He would drag me off, we would run for miles until we came across foothills or mountains, and he would pull me down to the ground. His arms would wrap around me, we would look up at the clouds or the stars, and he would tell me stories."

Charlotte sounded wistful now and I was growing confused.

"Stories?"

"Yes," she said. "They were stories about you, Jasper."

"What kind of stories?" I asked warily.

"About when you were human."

My eyes widened in shock. I opened my mouth to ask how the hell he could possibly know anything about when I was human but he was Peter. Of course he knew. My mouth closed.

"Some of them were silly, some were serious, some were endearing," she told me. I was morbidly curious about which stories he'd told her, I remembered so little of my human life, and I wondered what the purpose of his actions was. Charlotte seemed to have read my mind because she answered. "He wanted me to know there was more to you than what I was seeing but I was still so new to this life. I was volatile, my emotions were so unstable, and the only thing that made sense to me was my love for Peter so the stories didn't mean anything to me at first. He didn't explain why he shared those things with me those first few times, but you know Pete ... he has his reasons for everything he does," she said fondly.

My fondness added to hers and it brought me warmth, but not near enough to thaw the ice in my bones.

"I was six months old when he opened my eyes. We were comin' back from one of our trips to the mountains when I first truly saw how Maria treated you. He did it on purpose. He's never said so, but I know it. He always shielded me from it in his own roundabout ways. I think he was waiting for the right time, for when he knew I was ready to see." Charlotte was pained as she said it. There was shame there too and I couldn't help the anger and the red hue that began to creep around the edges of my vision like a poisonous miasma.

"I'm not a fuckin' victim," I growled, tearing my gaze from hers and looking back up at the sky. It was darkening just like my mood. I wondered how long I would last before I snapped, how many pieces I'd rip my sister into, the sister I cherished above all others.

"I didn't say you were," she responded, unhurried.

"I'm a soldier," I snapped, continuing on as though she hadn't spoken.

"You don't have to be. Not anymore," she whispered softly, gently.

"I wish that was true, Charlotte," I said. My anger left me in a woosh, the red fading from my vision and I deflated with a sigh. "I love freedom and makin' decisions for myself, knowin' my life is my own. I cannot even put into words how grateful I am to you and Peter for savin' me, but even though I'm not there anymore, I still am. I can pretend like I'm not, I can pretend that I've moved on, and sometimes I'm so good at it I even fool myself. Whether I fool myself or not, no matter how much time passes, bein' a soldier is the only thing that makes sense to me."

Charlotte reached over, pried my hands apart and laced our fingers together. "I know."

That was all she said but there really wasn't anything _to_ say. Charlotte always knew when not to resort to empty words or platitudes.

"You didn't let me finish," she said a few minutes later.

I nodded and she continued. "After that I started to pay more attention - to Peter's stories, to every move you made, to how you interacted with all of us. I began to understand that the only reason I was still alive was because of how harsh you were with us during training. I became cognizant enough to recognize all the times you saved my ass in the battles we fought before I really got the hang of the fight, which you didn't have to do, and which was so contradictory from who you presented yourself as. I started to hate you less and less. Eventually, aside from learnin' more about Peter and sharin' things about myself with him, hearin' the stories about you were what I most looked forward to when we took our trips to the mountains.

"One day, three months after I started to come around, Peter told me something that he'd never told me before. He said, 'Darlin', one of these days things are goin' to be different and the Major will need us. We're goin' to have to be the ones to remind him of the man he was in those stories and bring him back to himself when he doubts. I know you can't see it now but it'll be worth it. _He_ will be worth it. I just know.'

"My faith in my mate has always been absolute and unwavering. I believed him and in that moment I started to love you because it was only then that I realized how much he did," she explained and squeezed my hand. My skin only crawled a little, not enough to make me stiffen. Her touch never made me stiffen. "Then you let us go and my love for you became just as powerful and absolute as my love for Peter.

"Do you even understand what you've given us, Jasper?" Charlotte asked earnestly. "You gave us our lives. We've had 117 years of joy because of what you did. Despite our beginnings, you've given us a family more loving than my human one ever was or ever could have been. That is why we aren't mindless animals after all the shit we went through during the Wars. We could've been sucked into that darkness and never found our way back out, but we _did_ find our way back. Do you think we could have done that without you?"

Her passion and conviction was powerful and almost suffocating. I wanted to ask her to stop because as ironic as it was, I felt like I couldn't breathe. I wouldn't ask that though because I'd asked for this and I wasn't about to back down. She obviously wasn't done yet and she seemed to need to say all this as much as I needed to hear it even though I no longer wanted to.

"Sometimes I wonder if our lives are worth the price you paid to give them to us. I know it was steep-"

I tugged her into my arms roughly, cutting off her words, and kissed the crown of her head. She tucked her face into my shoulder and fisted her hand in my shirt. To an outside observer it would have looked like a romantic embrace but it was one of comfort and platonic intimacy. "It was worth every second. Don't you ever doubt that and don't you ever forget it."

Her lips curled up against my skin before she moved her head to rest on my chest. Then she looked up into my eyes. I didn't want to look back but I wanted her to know I meant what I said so I met them anyway.

"I know you don't believe you're a good man but, Jasper, you are. You aren't perfect and at one point you were a sadistic bastard. Lord knows, you're still seriously FUBAR but you are the best man I've ever known and Peter was right. You _were_ worth it. You still are and always will be." The same passion and conviction were still there in Charlotte's voice and there was no denying just how much she believed in the words she spoke.

Venom gathered in the corners of my eyes and I turned my head away from her so she wouldn't see. I detested looking weak and though Charlotte had seen me at my lowest and most vulnerable, the knowledge of this only made me detest it more. I had no response to her words so I said nothing.

"Do me a favor?" she asked.

"Of course."

"Don't tell Peter I said you're the best man I've ever known. He's a very close second but ..."

I grinned, feeling happy for the first time in awhile. "Yeah, I can keep your secret."

Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief and I couldn't help but find it funny that after more than a century of life as a vampire, she still resorted to reflexive human reactions to certain emotional situations. Most vampires did.

"I'm gonna head home," she told me and then mused, "It's still odd for me to call it that."

"I can't go back yet."

I wasn't ready.

"I didn't figure you would, but you shouldn't take too much longer. The others are gettin' worried about you. They'll start askin' questions soon, especially since Alice can't see you. That's been happening more and more and she's not gonna keep lettin' it slide. I'm surprised she's gone this long without interrogating you."

"I know."

It was another thing I'd already considered and I would heed Charlotte's advice, but I needed more time to get my head on straight. Charlotte's confessions in addition to my already present demons had done some damage to my already fucked up psyche and I wasn't about to return to the house looking like an emotional little bitch. Those confessions had touched me though and I was somewhat confident it would be a easier to get my shit together. I had to be as shit free as possible if I was going to continue to deal with Carlisle's almost crippling depression on top of everything else and I _had_ to deal with it because I needed to be with my family.

Charlotte nodded at me and dove gracefully into the ocean, speeding toward the shore at a leisurely pace. She wasn't doin' it to stretch out her time with me as much as she could. She did it because she thought that life shouldn't always move at vampire speed.

When her scent dissipated completely, I refocused all my attention on the sound of the waves, again letting the gentle crashing sound clear my cluttered mind. It was a nearly impossible task and I could not account for how long it took to accomplish it but once it was done, I felt immense relief.

When I allowed my brain to reboot, my thoughts trickled in at a pace of my choosing. It felt nice to be in control of the chaos in my head. I fixated on pleasant memories to keep myself as calm as possible, and once I'd remained in control of the chaos for a good long while, I finally felt it was safe for me to return home.

I needed to face Rosalie. She may not have known what I'd nearly done to her but there was still penance to be paid. I needed to show her I loved her and I would. I had to or I would go crazier than I already was. That I could not afford. That was something no one could afford.

oOo

**A/N:** More light has been shed on Jasper's inability to recognize the mating bond for what it is. He's confusing it with signs of the God of War. It is to an extent but it's mostly the mating bond. It's easy to get the two confused.

"FUBAR" means "Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition". Sometimes the "R" stands for "reason" or "repair" and it's a military term that dates back to World War II.

As always, your opinions would be appreciated. :)


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer, but her characters are fun to play with so I'm making them do my bidding for the foreseeable future. Jasper as the God of War and Peter 'just knowing shit' are ideas that belong to IDreamofEddy. I do own the plot and original characters of Longing though.

Thank you to my wonderful beta and friend, Laurie Whitlock, my sister, beta/pre-reader, Shelljayz, and my pre-reader, Shadman.

I cannot even tell all of you that have followed, favorited, and reviewed thank you enough. I generally do my best to respond to all the reviews I get but this week wasn't the best week ever, and it just didn't happen. If I get a chance, I'll make up for it this week but there's a possibility that this week will suck exponentially more than last week did, so if it doesn't happen I apologize. Your reviews still mean the world to me.

As I'm sure you've noticed, I am now posting the outtakes here instead of separately. I didn't want to but no one is reading them and they are important, so I had to make a concession. As I mentioned in the A/N in the outtake, I will never post an outtake in place of a chapter that moves the plot forward. All outtakes that are meant to go with a chapter will be posted concurrently.

Now shall we see if chaos ensued after Carlisle made his little proclamation?

**Chapter 22**

oOo

_September 2080_

"I'm sorry," Rosalie said, incredulously, her eyebrows raised, "it sounded like you just said you wanted the human to stay with us."

Carlisle observed his daughter evenly, wishing, not for the first time, that she didn't feel the need to make everything difficult. He was perfectly aware of how much progress she had made on many personal fronts, and he was immeasurably proud of her for that but in situations like these she just couldn't seem to think before she reacted.

Storm needed a home. That was the bottom line and after the events of Louisville, Carlisle didn't trust anyone else to take proper care of her. He wouldn't be able to explain all of his reasons for wanting their home to be hers, and he didn't particularly like that. He hated keeping things from his family but in this case, much of his reasoning was steeped in doctor-patient confidentiality. He did not have a problem adhering to that part of the oath he had taken as a medical doctor, but he still felt a sense of wrongness about the other things he had kept to himself. He hadn't even told Peter what had gone down in Louisville, which was even more of an offense to Carlisle since Peter was the one who had sent him there. He had allowed the younger vampire to believe his hunch had been off base, which had been easy to do since there had been no "wildfire," but that didn't make it fair. Peter had saved Storm's life and Carlisle truly believed he deserved to know of the good he'd done, but in the end he had chosen to protect Storm and her privacy since, at the time, he believed she had died and there had been nothing else he could do for her. That didn't make it right and it hadn't set well with him, but now that he knew she was alive, there wasn't anything he _could _say.

Either way, Carlisle had to choose his words carefully and keep tight control over his emotions. He couldn't have Jasper asking questions. Well, he would be telling the truth, just not the reasons for it. Hopefully that would successfully cloak any deceit that might weave itself into his emotions.

"Her name is Storm and that is precisely what I said," Carlisle said in the tone he had perfected so long ago. It was a mixture of calm, patience, confidence, authority, interest, respect, and mindfulness. He had found, over the years, that most people responded best to those things, especially in combination. Communication was important. Knowing how to communicate effectively and appropriately in any given situation was even more so.

Carlisle knew there were several other members of the family who wished to give their opinions on the matter at hand. Rosalie, however, was not quite ready to relinquish her control over the conversation.

"And when you say 'stay' you mean what exactly? A couple days? A week? Two?"

Carlisle moved his eyes from Rosalie's to everyone else's, making sure to meet each of their gazes for two seconds apiece. It was his way of letting them all know that his answer was for all of them and that he wanted to know what they thought of what he was about to propose. "I mean," he clarified, "I want her to live here with us. Permanently."

Carlisle didn't fail to notice how overjoyed Esme looked at this prospect. Alice and Emmett seemed excited as well but that did not surprise him. Of all of his family members, the three of them, as well as himself, had been the most receptive to Storm. He had not expected to obtain Rosalie's blessing, and Edward and Jasper had never seemed to have an opinion one way or the other. As for Peter and Charlotte, they had only met Storm a few minutes ago, so he really had no idea what their opinion on the prospect of living with a human might be; particularly considering that they had just made the switch to the animal blood diet. They had been adjusting remarkably well to it, well enough to attend Forks High School, but Carlisle suspected their success had a lot to do with their determination to remain by Jasper's side.

"Do you really mean that, darling?" Esme asked, her voice choked with emotion and her expression hopeful.

Carlisle smiled at her tenderly. "I do, sweetheart."

Esme's smile was brighter than he'd seen in a long time, her eyes shining. It made him unbelievably happy to see his mate that way. It was nice to feel happy at all after the last weeks of grief and depression. Alice and Emmett got more excited when he confirmed the authenticity of his intentions. It was clear that Emmett's enthusiasm annoyed Rosalie. Her posture and her arms crossed over her chest said it all. Of course, she was alternating the direction of her irritation and disbelief both at her mate and at him. It was obvious that Edward was supportive of Alice's eagerness to accept Storm as a housemate, holding her hand and smiling fondly at her. Carlisle knew him well enough to know that despite that support, his oldest son's own feelings on the idea were mixed. Jasper's face was unreadable, an expression not unusual for him, and he wasn't projecting so it was impossible to tell what was going through his head. Peter and Charlotte just looked curious and open to discussion.

"Carlisle," Edward spoke up, "I'm not sure I understand what's changed. When Storm was here last, you made it very clear we wouldn't be entertaining her for more than a day or two because of what we are. We're still vampires, so what makes now any different than before?"

Carlisle thought about this for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts and find the right words. If he didn't express himself well now, he feared he would lose his shot at convincing his family to take Storm in. When he finally spoke, his voice was passionate, compassionate, reasonable, and full of sadness, "Storm needs a home. I'm not sure if she will admit to that or be willing to accept help now anymore than she would before. She's stubborn and self-sufficient, and I think it's been awhile since she has had anyone she can depend on. She doesn't like the idea of foster homes and, to be honest, neither do I. If we could even convince her to consider one in the first place, there are those that are good and those that aren't. _If_ we could, which is doubtful, I don't like the odds that she might end up in a bad one. I have no idea what her story is but there is no disputing that something in her life has hardened her and made her distrustful. I don't want anything more to happen to her that might reinforce those feelings of distrust and her lack of faith in people in general. We may be vampires, and we all know there are certain dangers due to that; but at least with us, I know she will be well taken care of and living in a loving environment. All kids, all _people_, deserve to have that. I want to give that to her. I want _us _to give that to her."

Everyone was silent for a moment, contemplative. Carlisle was right in this, in everything he had said, and even if they didn't agree with all of it, the last parts were indisputably true with the rare exception. There was no arguing with it. Even Rosalie couldn't come up with something suitable to nullify his point.

"Why do you care so much, Carlisle?" Rose asked, genuinely curious. There was still anger, disbelief, and irritation in her tone but he could hear that she was trying to understand.

Carlisle eyed her speculatively. "I can't give you a definitive reason for it Rose. I just do and have from the moment your mother and I met her."

Carlisle could tell his answer hadn't made a difference. In fact, it seemed as though it had made things worse. Rose's expression darkened and she pressed her lips into a thin line briefly before saying, "And a random connection to a human is worth risking the safety of our family?"

Carlisle scowled. If there was one thing he would _never_ do, it was put the people he loved at risk. It infuriated him that Rosalie would suggest otherwise and he wanted to snap at her, yell and scream, demand how she could ever say such a thing. He took a deep breath instead. She was angry. He had caught her off guard and he knew under normal circumstances she would never have said it and so he had to be patient with her. He forced his lips into an expression that was understanding and open, and his tone to mimic it. His job had made him an expert at both. "Rose, I would never risk the family's safety. This isn't something that has been decided. I have merely brought it up for discussion. Now, you have had a chance to express your opinion on the subject. It's time everyone else got to weigh in on it."

Rosalie huffed, and turned her head away from him. There was a flash of anguish on her beautiful face and Carlisle thought he saw venom in her eyes but wasn't sure. "Fine."

Carlisle didn't have time to dissect what the look on Rosalie's face meant. He was on a timetable and he and his family could go back and forth on this subject for days; they had less than two hours. They couldn't dawdle, so he took control of the conversation. "To ensure that everyone has an opportunity to share their thoughts and feelings about this, we're going to go clockwise around the table and let each person speak without interruption," he explained firmly, again meeting everyone's eyes to ensure they understood this was not up for debate. "Esme."

Esme's smile disappeared as she prepared to share how she felt about Storm joining the family, her expression now serious and all business. "I want this and I want it for all the same reasons that Carlisle does. This girl needs a home. We can give it to her. We may be vampires but I have the utmost faith that she will be much safer with us than she would ever be with any other family who might take her in. We all have so much love to give. Why not give it to her?" she concluded, folding her hands calmly and confidently on the table in front of her. Her smile had returned, small and serene; the smile of a mother, who unconditionally loved her child even though Storm wasn't part of the family yet.

Carlisle gave her a nod, keeping his face impassive and objective, but unable to stop the rush of affection he felt for his mate in that moment. Still, he would hear each family member's opinion and take it into consideration before a decision was made. As much as he wanted, _needed_, Storm there with them, he would not offer it as an option to her without the blessing of his loved ones. Onto the next person in line, "Emmett."

Carlisle's good-natured, ever-joking son also turned serious. He may have always looked for the humor in things but he knew what and when to take them seriously. The evidence of this was in the tenor of his voice, "I want it too. Carlisle has a good argument in favor of Storm living with us. I hate the idea of her possibly ending up in an abusive situation. It doesn't sit right with me and she deserves better than that. I agree that we can give it to her. It might take some adjusting, but we always manage to pull through. I might also point out that even though she smells mouthwatering and our bloodlust was affected, none of us had any inclination to act on it when she was here last time."

Everyone seemed to take Emmett's words into consideration and Carlisle paused for a moment to let them sink in before moving on. "Alice."

Alice was also uncharacteristically serious, her usual exuberance absent physically but not in her eyes. No, her eyes were passionate and emphatic. "I agree with Carlisle, Esme, and Emmett. Everyone deserves a home that's loving and I don't think she'll find another one that is more loving than ours. I do have to say that despite the fact that we're vampires, I also believe we can provide a safe home for Storm."

"Have you seen this, Alice?" Carlisle interrupted briefly.

"No," Alice admitted, "I still can't see her, but that's no reason to turn her away."

At her admission, Peter's eyes snapped to his, the look in them keen and penetrating. Carlisle could see that the wheels in his head were turning and wondered when, not _if_, the younger vampire would put the pieces together. Peter was smarter than your average vampire with a sharp, analytical mind that was excellent both for creating and picking apart strategy. He would figure things out, there was no question of that.

"Is there anything else you would like to add?" Carlisle asked.

"No," Alice answered. "I've said my piece."

Carlisle nodded and moved his gaze to his oldest son and companion. "Edward."

Edward sighed and Carlisle knew his continually serious son was torn, especially since he was still keeping his thoughts from him. He had no choice though. If he let Edward see and hear them, it would be a violation of Storm's privacy. If he ever hoped to earn her trust that was something he could not do, even if she never knew it. He knew Edward didn't understand why he was keeping things from him, but he had also known Carlisle long enough to know that he would never do it with nefarious intentions ... at least, he hoped.

"I have mixed feelings about this," Edward began. "I agree that Storm should have a safe, loving home. I also believe that we are capable of giving that to her," he said, running his hands through his hair as if the words he was saying weighed heavily on him and Carlisle knew that they did. Edward may have seemed apathetic toward the girl but he knew his son cared for her despite his outward appearance of neutrality. "On the other hand, Rosalie has a point. Bringing her into the family has potentially dire consequences both for us and for her. That is not something that can be ignored."

Carlisle nodded thoughtfully, meeting Edward's gaze as he chose his words. "Do you trust me?" he asked.

Once the words had passed his lips, he once again moved his eyes around the table before returning them to Edward.

Edward's eyes took on a brief sheen of panic before switching to hurt and then settling on earnestness. "Of course! You know I do."

"Do you believe that I would have brought this to the family without weighing and measuring all of the options, all of the potential consequences, and all of the ways to protect everyone - the people I love most in this world and have every intention of spending eternity with - beforehand?" Carlisle asked evenly, his tone reassuring his son that there was no malice or offense in the question.

Edward looked horrified, "Of course not!"

Carlisle smiled tenderly at him. "You have every right to feel the way you feel. You have every right to express those feelings and concerns," he said before moving his gaze to Rosalie. "Just as you have those rights."

As annoyed with her as he was, it wasn't because of how she felt. It was because of how she went about expressing those feelings, but that was just Rosalie's way. Carlisle suspected his usual patience was thin because he was so protective of Storm and so afraid of what would happen to her if his family decided against taking her in or if they decided in favor of it and she refused the offer. Rosalie gave him a small smile but he knew she was still upset. What he had yet to figure out was what her primary emotion was. If he could figure that out, he might be able to persuade her that taking Storm in wouldn't be the end of the world. But first, there were three others they needed to hear from.

"Jasper," Carlisle continued, inclining his head toward the man he sometimes saw as his son and at others felt more as if he was his brother.

Jasper met his gaze for several seconds, folding his hands on the tabletop, his body full of tension. Carlisle wondered why Jasper would be so tense over one human. He rarely struggled with his bloodlust anymore but Carlisle didn't know what else could be the cause.

"I'm not doubting that you thought this through before you brought it to us," Jasper began, his tone diplomatic, "but I would like to know what you plan on doing about the Quileutes."

Carlisle continued to hold Jasper's gaze, though he had to admit that it was a bit unnerving. There was a coldness to it, a calculation, that he rarely ever saw. Carlisle had never come face-to-face with who Jasper had been before they'd met. He couldn't say he particularly wanted to. He had heard the stories, knew they were not exaggerations, and that filled him with sadness because he also knew that Jasper had always done his best to protect his family from that part of himself. While Jasper never talked about that time in his life, in Carlisle's eyes, that protectiveness spoke volumes. Carlisle often looked at the man before him and wondered what had been done to make him into the legend he had become, because the man he saw was so very incongruous with that legend. It wasn't that Carlisle didn't believe Jasper was as powerful or capable as those legends claimed him to be. It was the hardness, the coldness, the utter lack of mercy and humanity those legends spouted that he had a hard time coming to terms with; but then, Carlisle had never been to war. None of those things mattered to him though. Jasper was family, and even if tomorrow he began to struggle with those parts of himself, Carlisle would love him no less. Even if Jasper told him all the nitty-gritty details of the century he'd spent at war and the things he had done, Carlisle's love still would not diminish ...

"We will call a meeting with Billy and Talise Black to inform them of the situation," he said. "The Quileutes may not like us but they are reasonable." Rosalie snorted and Carlisle knew many of the others disagreed with his assessment but he didn't let her reaction stop him. "If we can get them to listen, I'm sure we can convince them that Storm will come to no harm from us while living under our roof."

"Ordinarily, I would agree with you but I'm not sure I can in this instance," Jasper said. "If you hadn't convinced them to allow two human drinkers to live here so recently I'd say they would be more receptive to the idea but that isn't the case, so I ask you again. What do you plan on doing about the Quileutes?"

Everyone was observing Carlisle raptly as they waited for his answer and he didn't blame them. Jasper's question was a valid one and it was another he had to answer carefully.

"The fact of the matter is that the treaty is nothing more than a concession on our part to help them sleep better at night," Carlisle began. "We don't owe them anything and we don't need their permission. I am in no way saying they don't have a right to protect their land but we have never been a threat to them or anyone, and that is something they cannot dispute. As long as that remains the case there's nothing they can do about it without breaking the treaty. The last thing the tribe will want is to bring war down upon themselves. I may believe in trying to work through differences peacefully first and foremost but there are things I will not tolerate and threats to my family are one of them. If we go to war, we _will_ win and they know it. Besides, Billy and Talise Black won't dare to dishonor their ancestor's memory in that way, particularly since Ephraim Black is Billy's blood, and even if they threaten it, I have an ace up my sleeve," Carlisle finished calmly but he was a bit ashamed to admit there was a slight smirk on his face as he revealed all of this.

Jasper nodded, seemingly pacified.

Many of the family looked shocked at his answer to Jasper's question but there was also a great deal of respect as well. They all seemed impressed and pleased. Even though they didn't know the details of what he intended to do, he knew without a doubt he had eased most of their minds.

There were only two members of the family who hadn't yet shared their opinions about the idea of a human living with them, and it was the first time either of them had been included in a family discussion. Carlisle smiled, pleased at this, as though sitting around the dining room table and hashing things out together made Peter and Charlotte's place with them more official.

"Peter," he said, warmly.

Peter looked at him similarly to the way Jasper had, and their features were so alike in that moment that they really did look like brothers.

"Well, Doc," he began, "I am not opposed to the idea."

It was a rather noncommittal opinion Carlisle noted, but it was understandable.

Emmett snorted. "What Pete? Don't you _just know_ whether or not all of this is a good idea?"

Peter rolled his eyes. "I don't _know_ everything, idiot, and my 'knower' is a little off at the moment."

Jasper frowned, his gaze shooting to Peter in concern. Peter's eyes didn't leave Carlisle's for several more moments though.

It was as if he was silently asking, _You wouldn't know anything about that would you, Doc?_

Then Peter broke their eye contact and shot a cocky smile at his former commanding officer. "Nothin' to worry over, Major. It happens from time to time."

_Only when a certain girl is involved, I suspect,_ Carlisle thought.

Jasper gave Peter a terse nod and Carlisle couldn't tell if he had accepted his brother's appeasing retort. He couldn't worry about that now though and he couldn't worry that Peter would be coming to him sooner rather than later. He didn't want to rush things but if he stood there worrying over all of it, that's exactly what he would have to do and that wouldn't be fair to anyone.

"Is that all you would like to say?" Carlisle asked.

"Yep, that's about it," Peter confirmed with a lazy tip of his head.

"Alright then," Carlisle said, moving his gaze to Peter's left. "Charlotte, what do you think?"

"I'm not opposed to the idea either," Charlotte answered, "but all of the concerns that have been brought up aren't child's play and an ace up your sleeve or not, there's no guarantee that it's foolproof. As much as I like her, I've known her all of five minutes, and I don't want to fight a war for a girl who might not appreciate the effort we would be puttin' into it if that's what it comes down to."

Carlisle nodded again, taking in Charlotte's words and lining them up with everyone else's. He gave everyone a few minutes before he moved things along to the last step.

"The only way to decide this fairly is if we put it to a vote," he said. He looked to his mate first. "Esme?"

"Yes," she said, her smile wider than he had seen it in a long time.

"Emmett?"

"Hell, yes!" Emmett exclaimed, earning a glare from Rosalie for his enthusiasm.

"Alice?"

"Yes!" Alice squealed, bouncing excitedly in her chair.

"Edward?"

Edward hesitated briefly before saying, "Yes."

"Jasper?"

Jasper was staring at a point on the wall and it was almost as if he hadn't heard Carlisle ask what his vote was. It was a good ten seconds before Jasper looked at him, and when he did, he looked genuinely torn. His mouth dropped open and snapped shut several times and he couldn't seem to find his voice. Thirty seconds passed before he finally answered with a pained, "No."

Carlisle felt a surge of disappointment and concern. He was not disappointed _in_ Jasper and he would have to make sure Jasper knew that, but he had been hoping that Storm would be well-received by everyone ... well, _almost_ everyone. The majority was already in favor of her moving in, but each family member's vote was equally important.

"Peter?"

"Yes."

Carlisle was surprised that Peter wasn't voting the same as Jasper. It wasn't that he didn't have his own mind or share his opinions when they differed from his brother's, but in this case, because Jasper seemed so torn, he would have thought Peter would have voted the same merely for the purpose of supporting him. Carlisle wondered if Peter was voting for Storm to move in because he wanted her to or if he had because he was curious about whether or not she was the source of the disruption in his gift as well as if she had been the reason he had sent Carlisle to Louisville. He would discuss that with him when Peter confronted him.

"Charlotte?"

"No," she said, placing a hand on Jasper's shoulder in a show of support. Carlisle noticed that he didn't flinch when she touched him. He never did when Peter or Charlotte initiated physical contact. Jasper always tried to hide it with everyone else, and he was truly good at it, but there was always that slight stiffening that gave him away.

"Rosalie?" Carlisle asked last, already knowing what her answer would be.

"Yes," Rose stated firmly after only a moment of deliberation. Everyone, save Edward and Jasper, whipped around to stare at her incredulously, mouths hanging open in shock. Rosalie rolled her eyes. "Maybe everyone does deserve to live in a safe, loving place, though I'm still not entirely convinced about the safe part."

Emmett grinned, wrapped his arms around her, pulled her into his lap, and gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "Aww, babe! I knew you had a soft spot for the human!"

Rosalie scowled. "I didn't say I would be _nice_ to her, but Carlisle ..."

Carlisle raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to continue.

"... if this comes back to bite us in the ass, I'll kill her myself."

"I will keep that in mind," Carlisle responded, knowing she meant it.

"We aren't going to tell her the truth, are we?" Rose asked next, the steel in her tone laced with trepidation.

"No," he said, "but it will come up eventually."

"And when it does?" Jasper asked. When he spoke, it sounded like it had been decades since he'd last uttered a word.

"We tell her everything," Carlisle responded, firmly, "and if all else fails, and it comes down to life or death, we give her the choice."

Rosalie nodded, satisfied with his answer. The others looked somber. Jasper looked a little sick.

"So, now that Storm moving in with us is official on our end, how are we going to get her to bite?" Emmett queried astutely. "'Cause seriously, trying to get Storm on board with staying here is going to be like attempting to pull the Earth out of the Sun's orbit."

"I'd like to speak to her about it alone, actually," Carlisle told his family. "I believe she'll be more receptive to the idea if she hears it when it's just the two of us."

Esme frowned, her disappointment clear on her beautiful face. "If you think that's best, dear."

Carlisle felt a pang of guilt that his wife wouldn't be with him but her absence, everyone's absence, really was for the best. "I do," he confirmed. "She'll be here in fifteen minutes," he said, aware of exactly how much time had passed without needing to check the clock and knowing he still needed to look for her necklace. "All of you should get going. I'll call after we've spoken if Alice doesn't see it."

His family nodded at him and exited the house through the door that led to the garage, opting to go somewhere in their cars rather than disappearing into the woods on foot.

oOo

Storm had arrived precisely two hours from the time she had left and was now sitting on the overstuffed leather couch in his study. Carlisle had taken the wingback chair across from her, vividly remembering the last time she had been here and desperately hoping things went better as he proceeded now.

"I appreciate that you got everyone to leave," Storm said, sincerely.

Carlisle smiled. "I always try my best to keep my promises."

Storm smiled back. "I believe that," she told him, her tone still sincere. Her expression turned eager as she looked at him then, though she tried to hide it. "Did you find my necklace?"

Carlisle had known the necklace was important to her. She wouldn't have come to Forks on the off chance he might have it if it wasn't, but he hadn't realized until that moment just how much it must have meant to her. He found it endearing and his curiosity over it grew stronger than ever.

"Before we get to that," he began, "I'd like to speak with you about something else."

Storm frowned, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Okay," she said, dragging the word out, "shoot."

"We," Carlisle stated carefully but firmly, mindful of the effect of what he was about to propose might have on her, "as in my family and I, would like you to stay with us."

Her eyebrows remained furrowed. "Stay?"

"Allow me to rephrase," he corrected. "We would like you to live here ... with us."

Carlisle steeled himself for her inevitable stubborn outrage but she just stared at him instead, her eyebrows furrowing even further.

"You want me to live here?" she repeated, her tone just slightly incredulous. "With you?"

"And my family, yes," Carlisle confirmed with a patient nod, watching as she processed this.

Storm cocked her head to the side as she thought, mild surprise mixing with her confusion. When she finally spoke, her disbelief was clear, "Of all the things you could have said, that was the last thing I was expecting."

Carlisle's smile returned. "I have to say, it feels nice to surprise you for once."

The corners of her mouth turned up the slightest bit before her gaze turned serious, and she studied him for a long time. "You're not kidding," she stated plainly.

Carlisle didn't fail to notice the humorless tone to her voice. "No, I'm not."

"May I ask why?"

"Is that really important?" he queried, folding his hands in his lap and regarding her evenly.

"It is to me," she answered, tartly, "especially if your reason for wanting it has to do with what happened in Louisville."

Carlisle's expression remained unchanged as he asked, "I don't suppose you would tell me how you got into that situation?"

Storm's expression hardened.

_There she is,_ he thought in relief. He couldn't say he didn't like this new, less edgy side of her, but it would have concerned him if her personality had genuinely changed so much so quickly.

"I don't have any plans to, no," she told him, flatly, "and despite the condition you found me in three weeks ago, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Dr. Cullen."

"So we're back to Dr. Cullen, are we?" Carlisle said, arching a brow and remaining calm. Storm crossed her arms over her chest and scowled, causing him to sigh. "I'm not going to tell you that my desire to have you here with us has nothing to do with what happened in Louisville because that would be a lie, but it isn't the only reason I want you here. My family, however, wants you here because they like you-"

Storm scoffed.

"_Most_ of my family likes you," he amended, "as do I."

"What's the other reason?" she asked, curiously.

Carlisle lifted his folded hands from his lap, propped his elbows on the armrests of his wingback chair, and tented his fingers at chest level. "I have no doubt that you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, Storm," he said, his voice and expression full of sadness, "but the thing of it is, a girl your age shouldn't _have_ to take care of herself."

Storm's mouth dropped open to protest but Carlisle wasn't going to let her until he was finished.

"I know you pride yourself on being so self-sufficient, and Esme and I aren't asking that you give that up," he explained. "All we would like to do is relieve some of that burden so you have a chance to be a kid every once in awhile."

Storm drew her face away from him quickly but he still caught the brief flicker of pain that flashed across her face that she tried to suppress. Also, she was biting the inside of her lip. Esme had mentioned that Storm had done that when she appeared to be torn over one thing or another, and Carlisle was hopeful when he saw it. Maybe it meant she was actually considering his offer.

It took less time than he thought it would for her to meet his eyes again. "I need time to think about it."

Carlisle smiled serenely at her. "Take all the time you need."

"Hey, Doctor?" Storm called. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to say whatever it was she needed to. She gave him a measuring look, and when she next spoke, her voice was a deadly promise. "No matter what my decision ends up being, if you threaten to call Child Protective Services, good intentions or not, I will stab you in your face."

Carlisle's smile turned wry but his eyes were serious. "I imagine you would. That's not something you have to worry about though. I learned my lesson in regard to that last time."

She nodded tersely. "Did you find my necklace?" she asked, changing the subject, her tone and face morphing from deadly to pensive and distant.

Carlisle rose from his chair, made his way around his desk, and pulled the top left drawer open, scooping up the delicate silver chain and phoenix pendant. He'd had it after all. He remembered that when he had taken it off of her, he had placed it on the bedside table. In the flurry of activity surrounding his attempt to save her life, Storm's necklace had somehow been knocked off of it and into his medical bag. Carlisle had been so focused on what he'd been doing that, despite his vampire brain, he had failed to notice. Vampires were not immune to tunnel vision.

He made his way back over to her and opened his hand for Storm to see. Her eyes lit up when she saw it resting in his palm, a light sheen of tears making them sparkle.

oOo

_October 2080_

BPOV

The Cullens wanted me to live with them.

The Cullens wanted me to _live_ with them.

It had been two days since Dr. Cullen had made his proposal, and I still couldn't wrap my head around it.

I had known the Cullens were nice. It was impossible for me not to know that. They had taken in a girl who had broken into their home instead of calling the police like they should have. They had provided that girl with shelter, food, clothing, and kindness when that girl had done nothing to deserve it, and they were still extending her that kindness even though she had told them to go fuck themselves. Instead of being offended, like normal people, they _liked_ that girl. They liked _me_. Then again, there was nothing normal about the Cullens, including their kindness.

They had no reason to like me but they did, with the clear exception of Rosalie and Jasper. Edward had seemed somewhat happy to see me, though that could have been more for Alice's benefit than mine, and Peter and Charlotte weren't unfriendly.

I had observed the two of them just like I had everyone else.

Peter was 6'3" with hair that was still blonde but several shades darker than Jasper's, and short - longer than Emmett's but straight and not as long or as messy as Edward's. He had the same haunted quality to his eyes that his cousin did but it didn't run quite so deep, there was a steel there that was very similar, and a hyper-awareness that rivalled Jasper's as well. At the same time, he possessed a mischievousness that matched Emmett's but didn't seem quite so innocent or childlike. There was nothing innocent or childlike about Peter. There couldn't be. There was an edge to him that was razor sharp and didn't allow for such things, and that mirrored his cousin as well. Peter's utter devotion to Charlotte and Jasper was clear to me, but it would have been hard for anyone to miss. The way he oriented himself to them while in their presence undoubtedly labeled them as his family, and he managed to pull that off in an entirely masculine way.

Charlotte stood three inches shorter than I, at 5'4". Her hair was long and blonde, nearly the same pale shade as Rosalie's, with loose, beautiful curls that were similar to Esme's. Her body was perfection in just the same way as Esme, Alice, and Rosalie, though the latter still had a bit of an edge over the others. That didn't change the fact that Charlotte was gorgeous, but she also had a haunted quality to her eyes. It was another thing that reminded me of Rosalie as well as the Southern Belle's boyfriend and his cousin. However, she seemed good-humored in a way that Rosalie wasn't, with a sweetness that was reminiscent of Esme's and a smile as wide and infectious as Alice's. There was also a fierceness to her that was undeniable just like her boyfriend and his cousin, and she was obviously just as devoted to Peter and Jasper as they were to her.

Yes, I had noticed that Jasper seemed unusually attuned to her but that did _not_ bug me because I hated him.

As far as they were concerned, they struck me more as threats than all the others save Jasper. They both had the same crescent-shaped scars that he did, Peter more than Charlotte, but both to a significantly lesser degree. I wasn't afraid of them but I wasn't drawn to them the way I was drawn to Jasper.

_No, you are_ not _drawn to Jasper fucking Cullen!_ I insisted in exasperation.

Their scars did make me awfully curious though and I would have liked to know how they had gotten them but they didn't invoke the need to spill all my secrets like Jasper's did.

_Fuck!_

The only relevant part of the tangent my thoughts had just taken was the reminder that my brain was still addled. There was no other explanation for my errant Jasper-centric musings.

God, I really needed to sleep. It had been seventeen days since I'd last indulged in that luxury and the only way I could come to a solid conclusion in regard to this was if I got some rest.

Hopefully, when I came to, I'd come to my senses and leave Forks.

oOo

I had slept for a grand total of four hours and that wasn't nearly enough; but then, I was staying in yet another shit motel, this one in Port Angeles, and it's not like the places were known for their quality mattresses. Then again, I could make do with a hard patch of ground in any circumstances but that didn't mean I liked it and mattresses really did make a difference no matter what I could make do with. Though this motel was far better than my home of four weeks in Louisville, lacking the awful kind of retro wall paper and faux-silk, porn star sheets, it still was what it was - shit. I could have afforded better. I could have afforded a fucking penthouse with the half million dollars I'd raked in playing poker and betting on horse racing but I had plans for that money, and those plans didn't involve four star accommodations. My intentions for my nest egg were far more important than personal comfort, and I wasn't convinced I deserved it anyway.

That was the crux of the matter really. There were many, many things I had to consider, many questions I had to ask myself before I could make a decision; but no matter how carefully I went over the logistics or argued the finer points in favor of or against this cockamamie situation, that was what it came down to. Did I deserve it?

Before I answered that question though, I still had to answer all the others that needed answering and that was what I was preparing to do as I lie flat on my back on the aforementioned shit mattress, staring at the ceiling, and twirling my necklace around and between my fingers. I was hoping the familiar action would help because it always did. It didn't really matter what I needed: peace, hope, comfort, strength, clarity; just touching it generally provided me with what I sought. I just prayed it wouldn't fail me this time because I really needed some guidance. Hell, what I needed was for someone to bitch slap me and tell me to get my ass out of Forks. As capable as my necklace was of meeting my emotional needs, I highly doubted it could pull _that_ off.

I couldn't put off asking myself those questions any longer though. I was stalling and I knew it. I just didn't understand _why_ I was stalling. Either way, Dr. Cullen was expecting an answer soon and procrastination had never boded well for me.

_Time to get your shit together, Bella,_ I sighed. _Here goes ..._

Question Number One: Was a small town the right fit for me this time?

The answer to that was yes. I hadn't lived in a small town since three lives ago. That was what I called each place I lived in - a new life. I was never the same person in any city or town I lived in, taking on different personalities and names in an effort to blend in. Being the same person left a trail, established a pattern, just as surely as choosing the same types of places to live in, and it was another thing I could not do. There were certain aspects of my personality that I would not change, like not taking shit from anyone for example, but it had gotten to the point where I wasn't certain who I was anymore. I wasn't sure I had ever actually figured that out. There had never really been much time for me to think about it, I guess. I was always running, always so focused on survival and freedom that I never stopped to decide who I wanted to be outside of Fort Ares and Project Apotheosis. All I knew, had always known, was that I wanted to live on my own terms. Right now I was still Soldier Omega, never having left that persona behind, stuck in escape and evade mode, with a singular survival mindset. But who was Bella? I honestly didn't know. Maybe if I lived with the Cullens for a little while, I could take the time to figure that out. Plus, the Cullens alone, especially with the added presence of Peter and Charlotte, were so distracting, I doubted anyone would take notice of me.

Question Number Two: Were there more than one adequate means of escape?

That was a question with a tricky answer. As far as variety went, Forks was shit but there were plenty of decent bodies of water with easy access to multiple points of entry around here. It limited my options without really hindering them and with my ability to lower my body temperature, hunters would have a harder time using thermal scanners to track my movements if they caught up with me. The fact that I had successfully played dead in Louisville only lent credence to this. The process would need tweaking since I was no longer missing 80+% of my blood volume but I found comfort in it.

Question Number Three: Were there plenty of jobs available where employers wouldn't ask many questions about who I was or where I came from?

In a town the size of Forks the answer to this question was always a resounding no, but I was still good at finding the places that wouldn't ask many questions, whether there were a lot of them or not. That was a way living with the Cullens might work in my favor, actually. I would bet my most prized possession, the necklace that was the whole reason I was here, that they were the wealthiest family in Forks. People probably didn't question them much for that reason alone, so becoming a pseudo-Cullen meant the townsfolk wouldn't bother to question me either.

Question Number Four: Were there an abundance of cheap motels or abandoned buildings that I could use to squat in?

That was a question I didn't have to worry about this time since shelter would be provided for me.

Final Question: Was it absolutely random in comparison to the places I'd lived previously?

That was another yes.

Now came the more difficult questions.

Was living with the Cullens smart?

That was an answer that was obvious. Living with the Cullens would absolutely _not_ be smart. It would be one of the most ridiculous, insane, illogical, and monumentally idiotic things I had ever done; but just because it would be a dumb decision to make didn't mean I couldn't be smart about it. If I did decide to live with the Cullens, I wouldn't be going into it blind. I knew they weren't normal and, though it was a rarity in my experience, their abnormality had nothing to do with their kindness and generosity. It was in the way that, though most of them were not related by blood, their skin was all the same pale, perfect porcelain and their eyes were all varying shades of the same color of gold. It was in the way that they were all uncannily beautiful. It was in the way that Jasper's eyes went black when he was angry and how cool he, his father, and Emmett were to the touch. It was in the nearly soundless way that Edward had moved. The Cullens were _off_, but though my gut had indicated to me on several occasions while in their presence that I should run from them, it had also unequivocally told me that they wouldn't hurt me … well, _most_ of them wouldn't hurt me. Besides, I couldn't judge the Cullens for being different, no matter how and why. I was different in so many fucked up ways that I couldn't be that hypocritical; and it really was none of my business, just like what and who I was, and where I came from was none of theirs. If I did this, moved in with them, my eyes would be wide open at all times; particularly around a certain honey blond Texan.

I knew that after what had happened in Louisville, risking attachments was not in my best interests. I had barely even developed one with Jasper and it had nearly gotten me killed but therein, lie the brilliance! Yes, Esme, Emmett, Alice, and Carlisle would make my life difficult while trying to avoid developing any sort of caring for them that went any further than skin deep, and it was entirely possible that Edward, Peter, and Charlotte would as well. Living in the same house with Jasper, however, would serve to remind me of the dangers of getting attached and cure me of any inclination to get close. But while living with the Cullens would be colossally stupid, as I had acknowledged so many times in the last minutes, there would be some undeniable benefits.

Carlisle Cullen was a doctor, and a damn good one, arguably as good or better than any of the doctors at Fort Ares. Not only that, he was a respectful one. He hadn't had to honor my request not to be taken to a hospital but he did, and he was resourceful, saving my life on the fly under even more stressful circumstances than I imagined were usual for him. Plus, he hadn't said a word to anyone about what had happened in Louisville, not even to his wife, and I appreciated his faithfulness to doctor-patient confidentiality. I had to admit that being in such close proximity to a doctor like him wasn't the worst idea in the world.

I had healed from my stab wound perfectly; so perfectly that there was no evidence I had been stabbed in the first place, but I couldn't say the same for my head. Over the past three weeks, the dizziness and headaches had virtually disappeared but I still found trickles of blood creeping out of my ears every few days. It had been a week since it had last happened, but I was concerned enough over it that the idea of Dr. Cullen as a roommate was appealing.

Then, there was the argument he had made about me getting to be a kid every once in awhile. I had never been a kid before. Not even when I was donning military-issue, camouflage diapers had I been a kid, and I really, _really_ wanted to see what it was like for a little while. I would be neither run of the mill nor cookie cutter, but it would be better than nothing even if it was just pretend.

I did know there would be certain things I could not compromise in favor of playing out my little fantasy. I still had to be vigilant, cautious, and prepared, but I really was so fucking tired of being alone ... bone tired, and since the Cullens were the ones who had alerted me to this, they may as well be the ones to suffer my presence. I wouldn't get attached though. I wouldn't.

That brought me back to the most important question: Did I deserve it?

No, I didn't. After what I had done in Louisville, amongst other things, there was no fucking way; but I had made a promise to Jane Doe. I had given her my word that I would find her killer and bring him or her to justice. I had given her my word that I would figure out who she was, find her family, and make sure that she was remembered and mourned. I had yet to make good on those promises, and atoning for what I had done to her and making sure she got the memorial she deserved instead of what she _had_ gotten was my top priority. Since Forks fit all the criteria that I used when deciding where I would live, it was as good a place as any to start the process of keeping those promises, and I wouldn't have to waste any more time than I already had trying to figure out where else to go.

My decision was made. I was going to live with the Cullens.

I would regret this. I was sure of it, but what was one more?

_Look out, Forks,_ I sighed melodramatically, a wry smile on my lips, _here I come ..._

oOo

**A/N: **There we have it folks!

As you can see, Bella is feeling very guilty about what she had to do to escape the morgue and is determined to keep her word to Jane Doe. It has nothing at _all_ to do with the Cullens _or_ Jasper. ;)

The Jane Doe murder mystery is not part of the plot that will drag on because that isn't the purpose of the story. This is very much all about J/B and the relationship they are developing, but Bella needed good reasons to convince herself to stay and, as determined as she is to do right by Jane, she could have chosen anywhere to start keeping her promises to her. She is using that as an excuse to be with the family, and a certain honey blonde Texan, since she can't justify it to herself on any other grounds. Don't mistake her lack of vitriol against Jasper that things between them are good now. They still have stuff to work out and there will be tension between them until they do. It'll will be fun tension but still ... Fair warning!

Why did Jasper vote no? Find out in chapter 23 ...

Take care! :)


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer, but her characters are fun to play with so I'm making them do my bidding for the foreseeable future. Jasper as the God of War and Peter 'just knowing shit' are ideas that belong to IDreamofEddy. I do own the plot and original characters of Longing though.

Thank you to my wonderful beta and friend, Laurie Whitlock, my sister, beta/pre-reader, Shelljayz, and my pre-reader, Shadman. I truly do not know what I would do without the three of you! :)

Once again, a huge thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, reviewed or just plain stopped by to read or visit. I love you all! :)

I have actually managed over 400 reviews which pretty much astounds me. I literally have a "struck dumb" expression on my face. That is what you all do to me with your awesomeness! :)

What happens now that Bella has made her decision? I guess we'd better find out, hmm?

**Chapter 23**

oOo

_October 2080_

JPOV

It had been three days since Carlisle made the proposal to Paige ... three days of waiting, wondering, and worrying. There had been no sign of her, not a breath or a whisper. Absolutely nothing. Everyone was on pins and needles as we sat there in limbo. My family was trying desperately to keep their anxiety, excitement, and impatience under control for my sake but even after decades of living with an empath they were still failing miserably. But while their emotions were grating and troublesome, they were nothing compared to my own.

I had voted no, knowing it wouldn't matter because the emotions of every other vampire at that dining table had told me it would be useless.

I had voted no even though a voice inside my head was screaming, _Yes, yes, yes. Yes! YES!_

Because despite that voice, a voice I hadn't been able to identify and which clearly needed to see the inside of a padded cell, I could not live in the same goddamn house with Paige Donnelly. I could not be around her all the fuckin' time. She had driven me crazy enough when I had spent only a few minutes with her but to be confined in a small space with her for an indefinite period of time? I couldn't do it. Well, maybe not couldn't; more like didn't want to. I did not want to be continuously surrounded by her scent or to deal with her constant need to test my control. The last time I saw her, I had just barely held myself together and my hold on my sanity had continued to weaken since. Going after Em and Rose and nearly ripping Peter's head off was a testament to this, and I didn't want to have to deal with the implications of what that could potentially mean for a human living in the same house as I was. Peter would survive if I took off his head; Paige would not and as much as she annoyed me, I still did not want to hurt her nor did I want her blood on my hands. I had to hope that she wouldn't go against the grain and accept Carlisle's offer because I didn't know what I would do if she did.

As if my persistent thoughts of her had conjured her out of thin air, her scent suddenly permeated the surrounding area within a mile radius of the house. When she got to the door, I was the one waiting to answer it, and I could feel just how uneasy this made Carlisle, Emmett, and Edward. Peter was the only one who wasn't concerned and I didn't have to wonder why. He may have voted in favor of Paige living here but his primary emotion regarding her was curiosity.

_Join the fuckin' club, dude,_ I thought to myself in exasperation. In actuality, I couldn't decide what my primary emotion toward her was but curiosity was definitely a driving force behind my fascination. _Fuck! She does_ not _fascinate you!_

No matter what his motivation, which he still hadn't divulged to me or to Charlotte, he didn't much care about Paige, and he most certainly didn't need to be concerned by her. He could handle me if I lost it around her. He _had_ to handle me if I lost it around her.

I knew my waiting for her at the door would have bothered Esme and Alice, but they, along with Charlotte and Rosalie, were out on a hunting trip together doing some girlie bonding shit. I could only assume that either Alice hadn't seen Paige showing up or she had and had seen that I managed to keep my cool; otherwise, she would have called to give us some warning. Then again, if Alice had seen Paige showing up, the girls would still be here.

I didn't really give a shit about Carlisle, Emmett, or Edward's worry. What I did give a shit about was seeing Paige because I really did want to. Yes, it didn't make any fuckin' sense to me but I was done trying to figure it out. The only thing that did was frustrate the hell out of me and considering the girl herself managed that just fine all on her own, I didn't need to add to it given my current circumstances. I certainly wasn't going to if I could avoid it.

I was operating under the current theory that if Paige had decided to live with us, maybe if I spent more time with her, _tried_ to like her, I would be less likely to hurt her if I lost control. Maybe it would even be fun having her around. She challenged me and I really did enjoy our little standoffs.

When she knocked, I waited several seconds, wondering while I did why she never used the doorbell. Opening the door, I surveyed her casually, leaning against the door frame and admiring the way she filled out her well-fitting jeans and dark green sweater. Also, she was wearing her necklace again.

"What can I do for you, sugar?" I drawled, lazily.

Paige scowled, her tone scathing, "_You_ can't do anything for me, Cullen."

"Whitlock," I automatically corrected, making no move to let her in. I had been hoping the hatred I'd seen in her eyes three days ago when she looked at me would be gone but it wasn't, and I didn't understand what had changed. I thought we had left things in a relatively decent place, a good one even, when I left Louisville but maybe I had misread the situation. I never had been able to read her well. Maybe she really did hate me as much as I had hated her.

_That's right, Jasper,_ I realized suddenly, _hated, past tense._

Now that I had figured out she wasn't the cause of my downward spiral, I had no reason to hate her. That did not mean I didn't still find her fuckin' annoying but this revelation would make it a hell of a lot easier for me to attempt to like her. Unfortunately, her apparent hatred for me would muck that up some, but I could be a charming son of a bitch when I wanted to be, and I was convinced I could get her to let that go.

"What?" Paige snapped impatiently.

"My last name," I clarified, still blocking the doorway. "It's Whitlock."

Paige pointed to her indifferent expression. "This is me trying to figure out why I should give a fuck."

This pissed me off and everything I had just thought went flying out the window. My spine went ramrod straight and I gritted my teeth so intensely it was actually uncomfortable. "Because names are important. I had a family before this one and remaining a Whitlock honors them, never lets me forget. It's who I am," I said seriously, and then my voice lowered and darkened menacingly, "and you would be wise to remember that this isn't your home yet, so mind your fuckin' manners."

"Or what?" she spat, the challenge I loved so much filling her eyes. This time I did not find it amusing. I didn't appreciate disrespect and I usually didn't stand for it; especially in light of my past and my current struggles. I was willing to let her attitude against me go, for now, but I would not let her disrespect Carlisle and Esme. "You'll rat me out to the cops?"

I had been ready to show her exactly what I would do if she didn't shut that smart mouth of hers but that caught me off guard. Of all things, why would she ask that? Then I remembered that Carlisle and Esme had threatened her with this more than once when she'd first been here so I took it with a grain of salt.

My eyes narrowed and I glared at her, my tone still fierce when I spoke, "You don't want to know what I'll do to you, _sugar_."

"I came here to see your father," she said, coolly. "Are you going to let me in or do your balls need to make an appointment with my knee?"

I laughed, hearty and deep, for a few seconds before my scowl returned full force. "I'd like to see you try."

I could hear Carlisle, Emmett, and Edward heading toward the door, eager and anxious to defuse the situation and was surprised they hadn't made a move to stop it before now.

Paige smirked. "I wouldn't underestimate me, _Whitlock_. People that make that mistake always regret it. Now are you going to stand in that doorway all day looking like a jackass and wasting my time or do I have to make you move?"

I folded my arms across my chest and let my own smirk spring to my lips, my posture and stance going from casual to cocky for the express purpose of pissing her off.

"Please, _sugar_," I challenged arrogantly, knowing how much she hated it when I called her that, and doing it to piss her off more, "_make_ me."

She took a determined step toward me, prepared to do exactly that, and I widened my smirk in taunting. Her scowl deepened, but before she could get any closer Carlisle laid a hand on my shoulder, the pressure of Emmett and Edward's emotions against my skin informing me that they were hovering just behind him. Carlisle's touch nearly made me flinch but I wouldn't let Paige see me weak. Not now. She had already seen enough of that and I refused to let her see any more.

"Please come in, Storm," he invited politely. His tone with her said one thing, but his emotions, which were directed toward me, said another entirely and his hand tightened on me in warning.

Paige's eyes locked on mine for several long moments, our gaze intense and challenging just as it always was; and, once again, the world faded away until nothing and no one else existed, the atmosphere between us so charged it could have lit the house on fire.

Finally, I broke our connection, stepping aside and moving my arms in a broad sweeping gesture of invitation. She moved passed me, back straight and head held high, pretending like I no longer existed. That pissed me the fuck off, of course, because everything she did pissed me off. When our shoulders brushed that same electricity went zinging through my body and that pissed me off too. We both tensed, Paige seeming just as angry about it as I was, which left me oddly disappointed and even more agitated, though I wasn't sure how that was possible.

She kept moving, and as she left me behind in the foyer, she growled, "Fucking asshole." Her tone was low and irritated, too low for a human to have been able to hear, and I did find pleasure in her aggravation ... just not enough to override my own. Then her tone changed to genial as she said, "Thank you, Dr. Cullen."

"Bitch," I growled back, wishing she could hear me as she walked away.

"Damn, Jazz," Emmett said in disbelief and disapproval. "I know you don't want her here but did you have to be such a dick?"

"She started it," I snapped sourly, my smirk morphing into a glower. I wasn't going to tell him that my not wanting her here had less to do with her and more to do with the fact that I was fucked in the head and currently unable to manage it well. He didn't need to know that yet. I was hoping he, and the rest of my family, wouldn't have to, and truth be told, I was back to wanting nothing more than to snap Paige's skinny, little neck.

"How old are you again?" Edward asked, voice vaguely amused but also concerned and somewhat disapproving.

I didn't respond to that, instead walking through the door Paige had just walked in and heading toward the outside entrance to the garage. I needed to get the fuck away from her but I didn't feel like running, so I grabbed the keys to my Dodge Tomahawk. It was the fastest motorcycle in the world, topping out at 350 mph, and it was exactly what I needed. I quickly started it up and hopped on, the tires squealing as I sped down the driveway and as far away from her as I could get.

_Fuck!_

oOo

BPOV

I hated him. I really, really hated Jasper fucking Cullen or Whitlock or whatever the hell his last name was. I hated him for many reasons ...

I hated him for showing up in Louisville and fucking up the perfectly good life I had going there. I had established a firm six week limit that was the maximum amount of time I ever stayed in one place. I had never actually stayed in a place for that long but I'd had every intention of taking advantage of my six week rule that time, and I had been robbed of two of those weeks in the place I had been the happiest. Maybe I had been restless and itchy with an ache in my chest I couldn't explain, haunted by the echoes of memories of a boy I hardly knew, but there had been Wildfire and riding, and I had never loved anything the way I loved that horse and that pastime. Maybe I could ride again somewhere else but there would never be another Wildfire, and Jasper had taken away two-thirds of the time I could have had with him.

I hated him for getting under my skin, tearing down my walls just enough for me to convince myself that it would be okay to let him touch me, for the fact that his touch actually felt good, for pushing me to open up to him about a subject I knew better than to broach, and then betraying me. He had gotten me fucking arrested, opening up the possibility of my location being compromised, and it had been. Project Apotheosis _had_ come for me.

I knew this because I had never left Louisville. Not really. Initially, when I left Dr. Cullen's hotel I had stolen a car, something I rarely did, driven it 100 miles toward Green River Lake near Campbellsville, KY, and abandoned it after eradicating any trace that I had been the one to lift it. Then I had hoofed it the last five miles to the forest, which had been tough even though I felt much better after Dr. Cullen had patched me up. I then climbed the highest tree I could find and passed out for two days. When I woke up I was back to tip-top shape, though I still haven't been able to figure out why I had been dead to the world for so long, pun ironic and very much intended. I was uncomfortably aware that this was becoming a trend and I didn't like it.

I shouldn't have returned to Louisville after that, but I hadn't had a choice in it. I had invested a great deal of myself both body and soul while there and I had business there that remained unfinished, but I couldn't just show back up without being cautious about it. When I had first arrived in the city I had done my homework, familiarizing myself with everything about it, including maps; so when I got back into town I knew the best perimeter to prowl to look for signs that hunters were there searching for me. I knew everything to watch for because I knew _them_ and they were there, hunting me, hoping to capture me and take me back. I hadn't turned back and gotten out of there though because their presence didn't make the business I still had in Louisville any less unresolved. I just had to watch my back the way I always did, adding an extra layer of care to my defensive and offensive tactics now that I knew for certain that my fears had come to fruition.

Luckily, hacking into the Louisville PD database and altering the fingerprints attached to my mugshot had paid off. From the intelligence I had gathered, they still had no idea what I looked like and were currently in the process of covertly investigating everyone who had been arrested in the ninety-six hour period surrounding the timeframe my fingerprints had shown up in their system and which they estimated to be the time during which I may have been brought in. Though their presence and investigation did complicate matters, their initial relative ignorance did work out well for what I still had to accomplish there in Louisville.

I'd had five principal objectives.

The first was ensuring that Shiri, Jax, Matt, Alana, Lucas, and Mari were placed in safe, potentially loving foster homes. I had nearly given my life to remove them from an abusive situation, and I'd be damned if I would allow that effort to be for nothing. They deserved safety and reassurance, love if possible. I had told myself that what happened to me didn't matter as long as I had ensured that they had those things. That hadn't changed no matter what I had gone through to get to that point nor did it matter that I was in genuine danger of getting caught. It had been tricky managing to pull that off behind the scenes with no one the wiser for it when I wasn't satisfied with the choices Social Services had made for them, but I had done it.

How had I determined who was or was not right for them? Hours of careful surveillance, comprehensive background checks, and covert interviews, of course. Ultimately, they had all ended up in good homes. Jax and Matt were with a younger, sweet-natured couple who had one child of their own and had been ecstatic to take them in. Alana and Shiri were with a couple in their thirties who had been desperately trying to conceive for nearly a decade. They had recently discovered the wife was incapable and had been driven to tears when they found out they had gotten them. Mari and Lucas ended up with a woman in her forties who had housed several foster children who had lived in abusive homes before going to live with her. I had talked to some of her previous charges, and they all had nothing but wonderful things to say about her. With those people as their new parents, I genuinely felt I had left them all in good hands. It was the resolution to a fucked up situation I'd needed so I could leave feeling peaceful ... in regard to that, at least.

My second objective had been to check up on Lydia and Elizabeth. They had been discharged from the hospital the day I'd returned from Green River Lake, both healing nicely from the wounds Rafe had inflicted on them the night he'd "killed" me and on the mend from all the other damage he'd done. Lydia was both filing for divorce as well as charges against him for all the abuse she'd taken over the years as well as that he'd inflicted on their daughter and had adamantly insisted on testifying at his murder trial. Though she was only six, Elizabeth had been adamant about this as well, and I couldn't help but be touched by that. They were now living in Tree Hill, North Carolina with Lydia's parents as they tried to piece their lives back together in the aftermath of it all and seemed to be doing well; as well as can be considering the circumstances anyway. I knew this because I had taken a detour to Tree Hill one day to check and was more than a little pleased to see it. It added another layer of sweetness to my victory over Rafe and the resolution I'd needed.

My third objective had been to keep an eye on the people I had formed connections with during my time there, though "connection" was a loose description. It was only a matter of time before the hunters figured out which incarcerated girl was me, and then they would go after the people I knew. Jack, Jeremy the Stable Boy, and everyone else at Churchill Downs would be fine since I was known as Kristine Hastings there, and I doubted the hunters would make that connection. I'd still keep a tentative eye on them but my main concerns were Christian, Ashley, Todd, Sharon, everyone else I'd worked with at The Finish Line, and Mr. Conroy. They were the ones the hunters would approach, the ones that could potentially never be seen or heard from again. By the time I left, not a hair on their heads had been harmed and, as far as I could tell, not one of them had been approached by anyone from Project Apotheosis. Of course, I had been busy with several other things, so I could have been mistaken, but I would keep an eye on them through alternative means for the foreseeable future just to be safe. If something happened to one of them because of their association with me … well, I would cross that bridge when I came to it.

My fourth objective had been to procure a copy of the case file of the investigation into Jane Doe's murder as well as the evidence collected from the crime scene. That one had been a hell of a lot fucking trickier to accomplish than the first three since it involved not only hacking the Louisville PD database again but breaking into the place to make a hard copy. I had no idea of the caliber of the detective(s) working her case or if he or she kept the digital and paper files up-to-date with each other. Plus, I had to get my hands on individual notes that may or may not have been included in either as well. In order to fulfill my promise to Jane, I couldn't afford to miss any evidence that may have been collected, leads that were being cultivated, or hunches that might have taken root in the investigative minds of those trying to solve her case. Yet again, despite its trickiness, I managed it.

Once I had that information, I was able to examine the crime scene with my own keen eyes, checking for evidence that could have been missed due to pedestrian human error. Since I was not entirely human and my preternatural senses could pick up on things that most could not, I had to make sure. Finding Jane's killer and making him or her pay for taking her life long before it should have ended was now my responsibility. It was one I took very seriously; especially since, in the absence of her body, her case had already been deemed cold. That had made breaking into Louisville's evidence locker to steal the rest of the physical evidence all the more important. I would return it to its rightful place if I could, but only if.

Jane _would_ be avenged. I wouldn't rest until this had been done.

My fifth objective had been to clear out my motel room. I had half a million dollars and a decent stockpile of quality weapons stashed there. I was picky when it came to what I armed myself with, and I had collected some great pieces that I'd already made specific modifications to. I didn't want to leave them behind. My arsenal wasn't quite complete yet but I had a good start on it after abandoning the stash I'd had in British Columbia, the one it had taken me more than a year to collect, and I wasn't fond of the idea of having to start over again.

I didn't need weapons per se. I was a wickedly deadly weapon in my own right, but my drill sergeants and trainers had insisted I master the use of practically every weapon known to mankind nonetheless. The fact was there were times when I just liked using weapons better than my natural abilities, though I suppose my proficiency with them could technically count as one of them. I tried to ignore that thought though because I found comfort in the notion that with enough practice and dedication, anyone could master a weapon. It made me feel like less of a freak.

And as far as the money went? Honestly, how stupid would I have been to abandon the $500,000 I had earned fair and square? Especially when I intended to use it to fund my endeavors to keep the promises I had made to Jane Doe. There were a couple other things I had planned for it, but that was the most important.  
All of this had taken me seventeen days. After that I had purchased a ticket for a nonstop trip on an express train to Seattle so I could make my way to Forks in a last ditch effort to locate my necklace. I had noticed it was missing not an hour after I'd woken from my restorative slumber since it was like a physical extension of my body. I could _not_ have lost it, so I had searched for it frantically in every place it possibly could have been. After coming up empty, the only thing I could figure was that Dr. Cullen could have somehow ended up with it. In my desperation to convince myself it wasn't really gone that was what I had forced myself to believe. It wasn't the best idea to go to Forks though. Dr. Cullen no doubt thought I had died and he was better off believing that, but I simply could not even entertain the thought of not at least seeing if he might have had it and so I had come.

Why else did I hate Jasper fucking Whitlock? I hated him because I had nearly died due to the situation he had put me in, but also I hated him because there were things I couldn't hate him for. Maybe he had been the one to call in the anonymous tip that had gotten me arrested, but I was the one who had given him the ammunition that had inevitably ended up leaving me fucked. I had made the choice to stay in Louisville after my arrest instead of making an immediate escape. I was the one who had decided to take Rafe Jones down, which was what had led to my near demise. I was the one who had gone back despite the likelihood that hunters would be there looking for me and had stayed even though they were, in fact, there. Yes, Jasper was partially to blame but I was equally culpable in the shitstorm my last days in Louisville had been but I _wanted_ to blame him for all of it. I _wanted_ to hate him for all of it. The fact that I couldn't pissed me off.

The thing that I especially hated him for: there was a little part of me that was happy, ridiculously fucking happy to see him despite everything that had gone down between us. My head was telling me that I wanted nothing to do with him but there was a little piece of my heart that seemed to want the opposite. It didn't make any damn sense, and so I hated him for it. I was already confused about enough; I didn't need to be confused about anything more and hating him was easy. Granted, he never had made it hard to hate him every time he opened his fucking mouth, which worked out well because I _had_ to hate him. It was one of the only ways I could live in Forks with the Cullens and manage to leave them behind after my six weeks were up, to survive it and remain in one piece; if I even ended up staying that long.

I was going to studiously ignore that particular train of thought for the moment. I was, once again, sitting across from Dr. Cullen in one of the wingback chairs in his study, preparing to discuss the terms of the arrangement he'd proposed. I wasn't naive enough to believe there wouldn't be conditions to my living here and while I was 90% certain I would take him up on his offer, my final decision still depended on what he and his family were expecting from me and what they hoped to get out of it. I believed they were genuine in their desire to help relieve some of the burden from the shoulders of a girl they thought had grown up too fast but there were _always_ conditions, no matter how good one's intentions might be.

We sat there regarding each other for a few moments before either of us broke the silence. I was the first to speak. "You're really serious about this?"

It was a redundant question but I felt the need to ask it again for my own peace of mind, and I felt an unfamiliar sense of vulnerability as I waited for his answer. It had _nothing_ to do with him and everything to do with my eagerness to get started on fulfilling my promises to Jane. No matter its cause, it still made me uneasy.

"Absolutely," Dr. Cullen answered. He had a trace of an accent that I must have been aware of before but was only just now registering. It sounded British but I couldn't pinpoint its specific origin.

I nodded and then got down to business, not wanting to waste any more time than I already had beginning my investigation into Jane Doe's death. Maybe it would only delay things for a few minutes but that mattered to me. "Alright, what are the conditions to my living here?"

"Conditions?" he questioned, a look of mild confusion marring his features. For the first time I noticed how startlingly beautiful Carlisle Cullen was. Except for his eyes, he didn't look any older than twenty-three or twenty-four but no matter how beautiful he was, his looks didn't really affect me.

I stared at him, my gaze penetrating, measuring, daring him to argue. "There are always conditions."

Dr. Cullen's gaze turned sad. I couldn't call it pity exactly but it still pissed me off. I glared at him, but he remained ever patient as he responded with, "You are far too jaded for someone so young."

The smile I flashed him started out bitter but I fought hard to empty it of emotion, especially hoping it hadn't corrupted my eyes as well. The eyes always gave you away and there was no place for emotion in this ... yet. "It may not be the most attractive character trait, but being jaded is a hell of a lot better than being a fool. There isn't any place in this world for innocence and naivete. All those do is get you eaten alive and that particular experience has never made it onto my bucket list nor will it. So, shall we get to the negotiation part of this shindig?"

Dr. Cullen frowned. "I didn't realize there would be negotiations."

I chuckled, only partly without humor. "Everything is a negotiation, Dr. Cullen. Didn't you know?"

His expression turned both amused and bewildered before moving on to seriousness and determination. It seemed he really wanted me here, I just didn't know why. Sure he had explained it to me, but I still had a hard time believing the truth of it despite how genuine a person I knew him to be. "I suppose if you feel it's necessary," he said and I nodded in assent. He paused for a beat before saying, "If you live here you have to go to school and that is _not_ negotiable."

"Didn't I just say everything is negotiable?" I asked, my tone annoyed and impatient.

"I am open to negotiating other things," Dr. Cullen said, "but not that. A young lady needs an education so if you're going to live here, you are going to get one."

_Shit!_ I cursed internally. Of all the things I had expected him to open with, that had not been it. I had never been to school before, not a traditional one, at least. My book education had been a one-on-one type of deal with the occasional lesson taught by multiple instructors. Going to school required a birth certificate, records of attendance at prior schools, and proof you'd passed from grade to grade legitimately. I had none of those things and it would be a pain in the ass to get them. For starters, except for the people involved in the project and the information at Fort Ares itself, there was technically no proof that I existed. It was so classified that it might as well not have, and while I was more than capable of getting my hands on that proof, as good a hacker as I was, I couldn't risk that my breaching Project Apotheosis' firewalls might tip them off that I had been there. There was no one else capable of doing that besides the people who had designed the system and they knew it, so they would know it was me. Even if I got away with it scot-free I certainly couldn't, not to mention _wouldn't_, share that information with Forks High School.

Needless to say, if I wanted to get the things required for enrollment I would have to resort to forgery and doing so was a direct violation of the Safe Citizens Act. I'd had a belly full of what came of doing that in the last weeks, so I didn't relish the idea of actually committing that crime. I did try very hard to keep my felonies to a minimum. On the other hand, normal kids my age went to high school and getting a taste of normalcy and what it was like to be a kid was part of the whole point of living with the Cullens. Going to school would cut into my investigation time though and I wasn't sure I wanted that. It wasn't really fair to Jane.

I took several minutes to mull these things over and Dr. Cullen waited patiently with his hands folded in his lap for me to tell him whether or not this was something I would concede to. Maybe it was the fact that I had come a hair's breadth from dying not long ago but as distasteful as I found the idea of going to high school, I wanted it. I would find a way to balance it and accomplishing my other goals. I was good at balance, and I was confident in my ability to pull it off. Besides, nonstop investigation could result in burnout and tunnel vision, and I would not screw this case up. I would not let Jane down.

"I can deal with that," I finally answered with certainty. "What else?"

"You have to let Esme and I help take care of you," he told me.

"In what way?" I questioned warily.

"We will provide you with clothes, food, a car, a cell phone, all the things a teenager generally gets from their parents," he explained, rationally.

"No," I protested immediately, my tone sharp. "You told me when you proposed this that you had no intention of interfering with my independence and you never said _anything_ about the parent thing."

"I wasn't implying that Esme and I would take on that role," Dr. Cullen responded evenly, "but I also told you that a girl your age shouldn't have to take care of herself in the way that you do. You can be both independent and let people help you, Storm. I promise it won't be the end of the world."

I considered this for a moment, observing Dr. Cullen's body language as I did, and I could see that he was dead set on this. Even if I pulled out my best negotiator and put the screws to him, which I wouldn't do _because_ he was Dr. Cullen, he wasn't going to cave. "Alright, I'll let you buy me the basics: food, toiletries, socks, underwear, jeans, shirts, and whatever else is appropriate for the weather here, but I will be responsible for anything else."

"You need a cell phone and a car, Storm," he protested calmly. "You need some way to communicate with us in case of emergencies, especially if you'd like to preserve your independence. Plus, I can't imagine you'll want to rely on me, Esme, or any of the kids to chauffeur you around town. How do you plan on paying for either of those things?"

I rolled my eyes. I didn't really want to get a job since it would interfere with me holding up my end of the bargain I'd made with Jane, but I had known I would have to and had never entertained the idea that I wouldn't. I had certainly made enough money in Louisville to make it unnecessary, if not for the fact that it was reserved strictly for finding Jane's family and killer. I would have to use some of it to buy a car and a cell phone anyway because I would need those things to help with that as well as what Dr. Cullen had pointed out I would need them for. "I'll get a job. Not all kids have filthy rich parents to buy them everything they want. They have to work if they want or need things like that, and I am not considering taking you up on your offer as an excuse to take advantage of your wealth."

"I wasn't implying that either," he said, "but paying for your own cell phone and especially a car and the insurance for it is a big responsibility. It will put a lot of pressure on you; particularly with school heaped onto your plate. Am I correct in my assumption that you weren't going to school before?"

I regarded him without allowing my expression to change and chose not to answer that. It was none of his business. "I can handle it."

"I don't doubt that," Dr. Cullen assured me, and I knew he meant it, "but, as I have already said, the whole point of you moving in is to let us relieve some of the burden of providing for yourself when you shouldn't have to."

I crossed my arms over my chest stubbornly but refused to let a scowl take over my face. "I buy the cell phone and pay for the plan. As for the car, I'm paying for that too, but we can go halves on insurance. That's the deal, take it or leave it."

Dr. Cullen smiled the slightest bit and I wanted to slap him. He was good at this; I had to give him that. "Done."

"What else?" I continued, my arms still crossed.

He thought for a moment before responding with, "You'll have to abide by the rules we set for you."

My eyebrows rose. "Why on earth would I ever do that?"

Dr. Cullen's smile hadn't faded. "Because teenagers need structure and from what I've observed, you have very little."

The scowl did overtake my face now. I hadn't had to answer to anyone since I'd left Project Apotheosis and I loathed the idea of having to do that again. It was important to me that I remain in charge of how I lived my life. I huffed in irritation, but collected myself before I responded to his statement. "You have known and spent a grand total of twenty-four hours with me and the majority of that time I was unconscious, so you really don't have any idea how much structure I do or do not have; and I have plenty. If I didn't I wouldn't be alive, trust me."

_If anything, I have too much._

Dr. Cullen nodded. "I'll concede that point but there will still be certain rules you'll need to follow."

"I will consider following any rules you might come up with," I countered, "but I choose the ones I will obey and which I won't. We have already covered the fact that you and your wife won't be taking on the role of parents to me. Think of me as a houseguest or an exchange student. Hell, I'll even pay you rent."

It was Dr. Cullen's turn to scowl, "Absolutely not!"

I smirked, but my expression remained obstinate. "Well," I began smugly, "if you don't accept my amendment to your condition we're at a stalemate, and if I can't pick and choose which of your rules I will or will not abide, then I walk."

His exasperation twisted his features for no more than two seconds before he pulled it together and retained his characteristic calm and patience. "Since there seems to be no budging you, I'll allow it ... for now. As for any other conditions, I can't think of any, so that begs the question - what are yours?"

I would have smiled in my triumph but I couldn't. Not yet. The one condition I had was a very important one and I couldn't allow my facial expression or demeanor to undermine the seriousness of it. Whether or not I stayed or went hinged on if this condition was met. If it wasn't, there was no doubt that I was walking away and this time I would be finished with the Cullens for good. It didn't matter that I genuinely liked Dr. Cullen or was grateful to him for saving my life. I was dragging out a connection with them against my better judgment because of circumstances and responsibilities, but eventually I would have to permanently cut ties with them. Whether that happened now or several weeks from now was up to him. "I only have one and it's my non-negotiable condition."

"Okay," he said. His tone was encouraging but there was a tenor to it that told me he was taking me seriously, and I appreciated it.

"You and your family have to respect my privacy," I said seriously. "Don't ask me questions about my life before I met you or the time in between when we met and when I showed up here again. I won't answer them because, frankly, it's none of your business," _and I want to lie to you as little as possible._ "If I want any of you to know anything about me, I will volunteer that information. If you grant me that, I'll grant it to you in turn. If you intentionally pry I'll leave. "

Dr. Cullen nodded in agreement. "That is reasonable and my family and I can accept that condition with ease."

"One other thing," I added, my voice not losing its steely quality. "My behavior the last time I was here has in no way suggested that I'm capable of respect but I actually hold respectfulness in very high regard. If I live here, I won't be treating you, your wife, or your children in that way." The fact of the matter was I owed him this for saving my life, _but_, "However, this is only provided they don't violate my condition. If any of you do that or disrespect me, I _will_ retaliate. I give as good as I get. I always have and I always will, but I'm sure those aren't things you've forgotten. I trust you'll relay that message."

Dr. Cullen regarded me with comprehension and willingness. "I will. Is there anything else?"

I shook my head. "Not that I can think of, but I will let you know if I do."

"Alright," he said. "So will you or won't you be moving in?"

I paused as I contemplated the conversation we had just had and really thought about what I was getting into, silently revisiting my motel contemplations and the pros and cons, risks and rewards. "I will."

A brilliant smile broke onto Dr. Cullen's face and my own lips curled up of their own volition. What can I say? The guy's happiness was infectious and his relief was palpable too. I just didn't understand why he cared so damn much.

_Shit! You have got to be fucking careful, Bella. You cannot let this whole thing bite you in the ass!_ I reminded myself sternly. I was strong and I could do this. I could live with the Cullens and survive it intact. Part of me had to wonder though: Was I succumbing to naivete? Was it stupid to think I would come out of this unscathed? What if this little taste of normalcy royally fucked things up and I had a hard time readjusting to the reality of the life I had always led and would always inevitably lead? Would this be me getting eaten alive?

Dr. Cullen interrupted my internal musings by asking, "Do you need help moving your things?"

"I don't have much in the way of material possessions, Doc," I said, "so that won't be necessary. I will be back here in," I paused, doing mental calculations, "no more than two weeks."

Dr. Cullen frowned, confused. "Why the delay?"

I gave him a bigger smile this time when I replied, "If I'm going to live here, I've got some things to take care of first."

He studied me carefully. "I don't suppose you'll allow me to help you with those things will you?"

I didn't have to work to keep the smile on my face. "Don't worry, Carlisle. I've got it covered."

oOo

PPOV

Edward, Emmett, and I had all heard every word of the conversation and negotiations between Carlisle and Storm, and I had to admit the girl was fuckin' impressive; but being impressive didn't necessarily mean shit. Her particular brand of impressiveness as well as her attitude and apparent personality did command respect. I definitely couldn't deny her that. She had this magnetism about her that reminded me of Jasper and inspired a protective instinct inside me that only two others ever had in the 160-odd years I'd been a vampire. I wasn't the only one she seemed to have that effect on either, and that was what made me so fuckin' suspicious of her. Well, that and the fact that there was the very real possibility that Storm was responsible for making my gift go haywire. If she was responsible for the disruption in my gift, then she was also the cause of the chink in Alice's. I would be lying if I said that it didn't make me uneasy because if something potentially shitstormish came our way there would be no warning and we would be going into it blind. Jasper, Charlotte, and I were more than capable of handling shit like that, and I'm sure the rest of the Cullens would be up to the task as well but it was still nice to be prepared.

That wasn't the only thing bothering me though. It had been a very long time since I had seen Jasper so fuckin' affected by someone. Storm riled him, twisted him up into knots, wound him so tight he looked damn near coiled to spring. I just wasn't quite sure how or why and it disturbed me. Of anyone who walked this earth, I knew my brother best, knew what made him tick and why. There was only one other person who knew the ins and outs of what got under Jasper's skin better than I did because she was the one who had crawled underneath it and shit there. Maria. Even 112 years after he'd left her, Char and I hadn't been able to scrub that shit clean. The bitch was a fuckin' leech you couldn't pry off and by the time I had come around she'd nearly sucked him dry.

I honestly had no idea how Jasper had survived her but there was a lot I didn't understand about my brother. We'd had a lot of shared experiences while fighting together in the Southern Wars so I got the horrors of that shit. There was camaraderie there between us because of it, one I cherished despite the circumstances under which it had been forged, but he had spent more than double the time I had fighting and I had never been the target of Maria's continual wrath, volatility, and twisted affections. She had genuinely enjoyed making him suffer, and when she wasn't making him suffer, she had him in her bed. I wasn't sure which was worse.

Maria was all about power and in her quest for it, she didn't care how thoroughly she was fucking Jasper up because the more she fucked him up, the more she got what she wanted. It didn't matter that under his command she'd never lost a battle or that she had the largest feeding territory in the South because of it, that the Major had cultivated a healthy respect and a shit ton of fear from the covens who sought to take her down as a result. Maria was a fearsome, formidable vampire that most would think twice before crossing but that wasn't what she wanted. What she _did_ want was for all her opposition to be so afraid of her that they would never even _consider_ it, and she could only accomplish that through my brother and his gift.

When she finally got what she wanted it still wasn't enough. She was never fuckin' satisfied with anything in her life. She always wanted more, especially from Jasper. More power, more blood, more control, more sex. Oh, the way he made her scream was legendary and the only time she wasn't channeling Satan himself was when Jasper was fucking her. I would have thought that shit was hilarious if everything else she'd done to him didn't make me want to dry heave until I actually threw up.

The worst thing about it was that there hadn't been anything I could do to stop it. Jasper had never allowed it, and I had always _just known_ that if I'd gone against his orders it would have done nothing but make things worse for my dearest friend. As hard as that was to imagine, that was one of the times the knowledge my gift had provided me was absolute. It hadn't stopped me from trying once though and my gift had been proven right.

At first I hadn't understood why Jasper put up with the things Maria put him through. Maria was an indisputably powerful vampire, but Jasper was infinitely more so. He was capable of putting her in her fuckin' place or, at the very least, giving as good as he got, and he had definitely done that at times, had started doing so more and more after I had shown up to piss him off. I'm both talented and awesome that way.

My gift had started out relatively weak when I'd first woken to this life but had gotten progressively stronger very quickly, and one day the answer to why Jasper endured all her shit and mind games, aside from the fact that he didn't know any better, had hit me like a bolt of fuckin' lightning.

Maria had somehow known when she'd come across him on the road in Galveston that day in 1863 that he was a rare find, and that he would be vital to her. How she had known that wasn't something my gift had revealed but what it had, had explained a lot. Maria had known Jasper would be powerful and knew she had to ensure his loyalty if she was to be successful in keeping him under her thumb and using him to further her endgame. She was nothing if not a smart bitch, a veritable strategic genius, and she knew exactly what had to be done in order to accomplish that. There had been no hesitation on her part as she'd taken on that task. Maria had rather fuckin' enjoyed it actually, but I didn't find that surprising.

Maria hadn't turned Jasper right away. Instead she had tortured him for days, tortured him until he was the sort of broken where he no longer understood that she was his captor and the source of his pain. It was brainwashing and, as a human, it had fuckin' destroyed him. The fact that he'd lasted as long as he did was a testament to his strength and character but no matter how strong he was, breaking under the agony of the venom was an inevitability. While the fire of that bitch's venom had burned away some of those feelings of helplessness when she actually allowed him to transform into a vampire, when he'd woken to this life, he had still carried some semblance of that over with him. Maria had never succeeded in turning him into her sniveling little bitch, which was another testament to his strength and character, but that had never been her intention. She didn't have any use for someone soft. She had, however, succeeded in her original goal which had been to secure his unwavering loyalty. He had been her ruthless attack dog, following her orders without question, and she had sucked every last ounce of humanity out of him until there had been nothing left but the Major ... or so it seemed.

The fact that there was still some humanity left in him had been something I had _just known_ from the moment I'd laid eyes on him, that there was any left at all was a fuckin' miracle, but there had been concrete proof as well. As hard and sadistic as Jasper had been back then, there had been times when he'd been honorable and self-sacrificing; and I wasn't referring to when he'd let Charlotte and I go despite knowing the consequences his actions would bring down upon him. He was the king of subtlety and while 85% of the time he remained the scariest motherfucker I had ever seen or met, still ruthless and merciless as he doled out punishment to those under his command who'd fucked up, the other 15% was an entirely different story. During that time he redirected Maria's wrath onto himself when she'd been about to tear into some of the more cognizant newborns. He couldn't do it all the time because he was the Major, still a hard son of a bitch, still ruthless and cold, still the Alpha male who knew it was necessary to constantly demonstrate that he was the one in charge and that if you crossed him you wouldn't survive his wrath. He only stuck his neck out for the ones who were starting to regain some of their humanity. If asked, I was sure he would say he'd only done it because they'd been of some use to him at the time. Eventually they still ended up being culled but he had made their lives a little more pleasant beforehand.

The trouble was that Jasper didn't fuckin' remember any of it and no one had ever caught onto what he'd done besides me. It had been another thing my gift had never shed light on but I had my suspicions as to why that was, and it made my blood boil. Well, it would have if I had any. Maybe if my brother knew it would bring him some peace but I had never told him because he wasn't ready to hear it. He wasn't ready for a lot of things.

After I'd figured out how Maria had so thoroughly hooked her claws into him, in addition to his occasional bouts of mercy and my just knowing shit, I had made it my mission to save Jasper. It became my sole purpose to remind him of whom he had been before that sadistic bitch found him and show him that even though he would never be the man he was before he was turned, he could strive to be _like_ him. He could strive to recapture his humanity and maybe even make a few friends along the way. I had _known_ undertaking that mission wouldn't be easy or fuckin' pleasant but my gift had told me it would be worth it, that _he_ would be worth it, so no matter what the Major dished out, I had never given up on him. My gift was right. Fighting for Jasper _had_ been worth it and I would do it a million times over if it was necessary. Even though Charlotte had been a bit late to the party, I knew she felt the same way about that as I did despite her initial hatred and hesitation.

That was why I was so bothered. I didn't like the way this girl was affecting Jasper. He was already on the verge of losing his shit in a monumental way and the fact that Storm had him so tightly wound wasn't a good thing. This was the worst possible time not only for some human girl to show up and throw a fuckin' wrench in things but also for me to not just fuckin' _know_. I had a vague feeling about it all that felt kind of like an itch along my subconscious that was just dying to break free of whatever was holding it back, but my gift wasn't like Alice's. I couldn't go searching for answers. I either just knew shit or I didn't; there was no forcing it. It was fuckin' annoying and for the first time since I had been a very new newborn, things were fuzzier than they ever had been.

I did have my suspicions about things though. I knew that Jasper had been in Louisville, though he had never discussed it with me or anyone else personally, and that whatever had happened there had seriously fucked with his head. Jasper's reaction to whatever had happened to him there had me doubting if I'd made the right choice in ignoring my sire for those five weeks at the end of July and all through August, but my gift had told me it was the right thing to do. It had also told me that Jasper could not, under any circumstances, spend the summer with Char and I as he usually did. He absolutely _had_ to stay in Forks for some reason. I just hadn't known what that reason was.

When my gift had told me that Carlisle had to go to Louisville, I had wondered if the two were connected somehow but that was another thing my gift had been fuzzy on. After the family meeting, I was also curious if Storm had been in Louisville at the same time but I didn't understand why Jasper hadn't mentioned it or why Carlisle would lie to me about it. Carlisle wasn't a liar so whatever had happened there must have been fuckin' epic.

If Storm had, in fact, been the reason it was necessary for Carlisle to go there I could only conclude that she was important in some way; and my gift was giving me a minor sense, a sort of tickle, that this was true. It was fuckin' frustrating for me not to know the hows and whys and the whole thing made me uneasy as fuck. Even so, there was something about the girl that I liked, and I couldn't help but think about the phone call I'd had with Alice. Maybe my gift wasn't giving me specifics, but there was a partial sense of knowing that told me Jasper's trip to Louisville might have been a good thing. Of course, I still didn't know anything for certain, particularly whether or not Storm had actually been there, and I would be confronting Carlisle about it, that was for damn sure, but not before I made him sweat a little; figuratively speaking.

Though I had no idea what would come of all of this, if voting for the girl to live here had been a good idea, there was one thing I did know for certain. Even if she was seriously screwing with things and testing him in ways that were dangerous, Jasper would never hurt that girl. Something was telling me that she needed to be here even though I wasn't sure why. I supposed only time would tell.**  
**

oOo

**A/N: **Yes, I am an avid _One Tree Hill_ fan for those of you who caught that reference. :)

Yay! We had some Jasper/Bella interaction! I hate to break it to you, Jasper honey, but you _already_ like her. There's no need to try. *smirk* ;)

Bella and Carlisle negotiated because, honestly, did you really think Bella was going to move in with the Cullens without laying down some ground rules first?

Who else is excited that we heard from Peter? Since I freaking love Peter, I was stoked to write from his perspective. He revealed some about his past and shed even more light on Jasper's which, of course, is very important.

I will be putting a picture of Jasper's motorcycle up on my photobucket album for Longing, the link for which can be found in my profile. You can also find pictures of who I envision as Peter and Charlotte, Bella's phoenix pendant (which, in case you haven't picked up on it by now, plays an important part in the story), the lovely banner that Ellie Wolf made for the story, and any other pictures I decide to add. Check it out if you feel so inclined.

I will not be posting next week for several reasons. I will return to posting on Sunday, February 24th, and I am terribly sorry for making you wait. :(

As always, I would love to know your thoughts.

Take care all! Until next time ... :)


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer, but her characters are fun to play with so I'm making them do my bidding for the foreseeable future. Jasper as the God of War and Peter 'just knowing shit' are ideas that belong to IDreamofEddy. I do own the plot and original characters of Longing though.

Thank you to my wonderful beta and friend, Laurie Whitlock, my sister, beta/pre-reader, Shelljayz, and my pre-reader, Shadman. I truly do not know what I would do without the three of you! :)

Thank you so much to everyone who has followed, favorited, reviewed or just plain stopped by to read or visit. I love you all! :) I'm sorry if I didn't respond to your review. I usually do but I wasn't feeling that well the past couple weeks. Hope you'll forgive me. *inserts pouty lip*

I'm sorry for making you wait. :(

**Chapter 24**

oOo

_October 2080_—_The day after Bella agreed to move in ..._

Carlisle was standing on the treaty line with the rest of the family, waiting for the Quileute wolves to arrive. He wasn't sure how many were coming or if they would show up in wolf form. He didn't suppose it really mattered because Billy and Talise, at least, would have to be in their human forms to discuss the matter at hand. Despite Edward and his gift, it was a formal courtesy.

Billy Black was the Alpha male of the Quileute wolf pack. For the most part, from what Carlisle understood, there had to be vampires present to activate the gene that triggered the transition, but there was one exception to that rule. There was always an Alpha male and female whether there was a pack or not. The Alpha male was usually the chief of the tribe while the Alpha female was generally a woman with the strongest genetic ties to it. The two also tended to be an imprinted pair though that wasn't always true. In this case, the Alpha female was Billy's second wife, Talise, the sister of Quil Ateara, the father of the teenaged Quil. Carlisle suspected the reason for the exception was rooted in the Quileute myths of how the shapeshifters had come into existence; only since then, for whatever reason, after the sacrifice of the third wife, the pack had taken on some of the more traditional attributes of a genuine wolf pack, which explained the addition of the Alpha female. Carlisle and the rest of his family only knew all this because Edward did.

There really was no telling if or when a vampire might cross into Quileute territory and become a threat to their people; therefore, there was always a line of defense against that possibility to ensure the safety and preservation of them. Since Billy was a direct descendant of a long line of Quileute tribal chieftains and Talise shared very strong genetic tribal ties in addition to being Billy's imprint, they were that line of defense.

Carlisle could hear them coming now. He could smell them as well and it took a lot of self-control to keep from grimacing at their scent. Though it was a perfectly natural reaction for him, it was not an appropriate one in light of what was to be discussed.

_"Please refrain from any insulting or inappropriate behaviors during this meeting," _Carlisle requested through Edward's gift. _"It will only make things more difficult."_

The family's responses were all varying forms of nonverbal agreement, even if there were certain members who found his request distasteful.

There were eight wolves in all and his ears told Carlisle they were less than a mile from their meeting place. Now that they were getting close, his two oldest sons flanked him - Peter on his left and Jasper to his right, both standing just a step behind him. Normally it would have been Edward to his right and Esme to his left since Edward was his first creation and oldest companion, fairly earning his place there; Esme was his mate. Her place was at his side. This was a different situation though. It had the potential to become violent and if it did, he needed the most experienced fighters at his side although the wolves had no idea of Jasper's, Peter's, or Charlotte's background. Emmett moved to Jasper's right while Charlotte moved to Peter's left, both following Jasper's and Peter's lead and standing just a step behind. Next Edward took a place to the left and just behind Peter, Rosalie took her place to the right and just behind Emmett, Alice took her place to the left and just behind Edward, and lastly Esme took a place to the right and just behind Rosalie. If a fight broke out, it left the mated couples to fight together and Jasper to fight on his own. Carlisle didn't like it but knew Jasper was more than capable of handling himself solo.

When the wolves finally arrived, they took up a similar formation to the one he and his family had. Billy and Talise, in their human forms, were in the front, hands clasped, Billy's son Jacob and Leah Clearwater flanking them in the Beta positions, Jared Cameron and Paul Lahote taking up the spots next to them, and Embry Call and Sam Uley in the outermost positions. The only reason Carlisle and his family knew which wolf was which was because of Edward. His son had helped them all to tell each of the wolves apart at Carlisle's request. He didn't require that his family like them but it was a way of acknowledging that they considered the wolves people and not inferior dogs despite their natural aversion. Everyone deserved that courtesy even if the wolves didn't reciprocate.

All but the leaders and the seasoned vampire warriors of the groups of mortal enemies stood there watching each other warily for several moments, the tension between them palpable.

_"Jasper,"_ Carlisle said through Edward's gift, eyeing Jasper out of the corner of his eye, _"would you mind easing the tension?"_

_"That's not a strategically sound move, Carlisle,"_ Jasper responded, tone utterly serious. He was alert in a way that Carlisle had never seen before and Jasper was always acutely alert. Carlisle wondered if he was getting a glimpse of the famed Major, but that was beside the point. He projected his confusion over his refusal at him and Jasper obliged him with an explanation. _"Our species' have a natural aversion to each other. We're supposed to be tense in each others' presence. I can manipulate most people without them knowin' it, but if their discomfort around us just vanishes they _will _notice. They know some of us are gifted. They only know what Edward's is specifically, but they aren't stupid. They'll put two and two together and figure out we tried to manipulate them. They won't care that it was with the best of intentions and this will not go well."_

Carlisle gave a nearly imperceptible nod and let his understanding flow from him. He'd lived more than four centuries and was a rather good fighter but he didn't have the head for strategy that his son did. He didn't know what he would do without Jasper.

"Billy, Talise," he said amiably, first acknowledging them and then the others with a nod and a smile, "thank you for coming."

Billy nodded in acknowledgement, as did Talise, and moved his piercing gaze to Peter and Charlotte. "It's good to see that your newest additions appear to be adjusting well."

Carlisle smiled. "They are," he agreed, his voice displaying his pride, "but that isn't the reason I asked you here."

Billy and Talise regarded him carefully, their eyes taking on a calculating sheen.

It was Talise who spoke next, "Then why _did_ you ask us here?"

"We're here to inform you that we're taking in a human girl," Carlisle told them calmly.

Both Billy's and Talise's gazes hardened and those in wolf form began to growl.

"We can't allow that," Billy said, grimly.

Carlisle kept his expression and voice friendly when he gave his response, reminding the two Alphas of a key point, "Taking in a human isn't a violation of the treaty."

"It could lead to the death of that human and that _is_ a violation of the treaty," Talise countered.

Carlisle wanted to scowl but refused to let himself. "I would invite you to remember that violating the treaty is something we've never done."

Unlike him, Billy and Talise made no effort to hide their scowls.

"You can't claim that no member of your coven hasn't taken a human life," Billy argued.

"Family," Carlisle corrected firmly and with annoyance, "not coven and no, I can't," he agreed. "That isn't the issue at hand and you know it. What _is_ the issue is that we aren't a threat to you or this human girl. That was determined a long time ago by one of your most trusted and beloved leaders. Your ancestor no less, Billy, and the very one your grandfather was named after. That hasn't changed and just as you've pointed out and I have not refuted, some of us have killed. However, you have no proof that any of us bound to the treaty since it came into being have broken the terms of it nor that those who have since joined our family have done so either."

Billy's and Talise's scowls deepened. They couldn't argue with this. They knew it, and it frustrated them.

Carlisle cast a glance at Edward, allowing his son to read his mind for the first time in weeks and to use his gift to fill the rest of his family in on his plan. He had been using his time at the hospital since Storm's return to practice compartmentalizing their time in Louisville so he could return to some sort of normalcy with Edward while still keeping her confidentiality. He still needed to work on perfecting it but he could keep it up long enough for this.

Slow, satisfied smiles spread across all of their faces now that they were privy to what he intended.

"Do I need to remind you both why your ancestor laid aside his prejudices and agreed to form a treaty with us six generations ago?" Carlisle asked mildly, trying his best not to sound smug. He knew he had them now. "I know the reasons for it are passed down to each generation of tribal elders."

Billy and Talise remained silent but regarded Carlisle and the rest of his family with distrust. He also saw doubt there, and he hoped that meant they were questioning their convictions. The rest of the present pack members released what he presumed were confused whines. Another glance at Edward told him his hope had been realized and he let his lips curl up the slightest bit.

"The rest of the pack would like to know what you're talking about, Carlisle," Edward informed him, still smiling.

Carlisle let his lips morph into a full-blown smile as he made eye contact with the first child he'd sired. "Then, by all means, show them."

_-Flashback-_

_1936_

_Carlisle, Edward, Esme, Rosalie, and Emmett had only just moved to Forks, Washington days before. It was the perfect place for them. Remote and sparsely populated, not yet even an official town, known mostly for its logging, its perpetual rain and little sunshine, and proximity to Olympic National Park, Ruby Beach, and the Hoh Rainforest, it truly was ideal; particularly since Emmett was just coming out of his newborn year._

_Carlisle was hopeful that he and his family could be happy here. With the addition of Emmett and the change of scenery, Rosalie seemed to be improving. He knew she had a long way to go before she was truly healed from the horrors Royce King had put her through, but he now believed she could find a way to overcome it. That was all he wanted for her and he knew that was Esme's deepest desire as well._

_The family was out hunting for the first time since they'd arrived in the place they now called home and were getting to know the land, learning both which areas were teeming with the most wildlife and which area each vampire's preferred meal frequented._

_T__heir hunt had taken them very near to the cliffs a few miles from First Beach of La Push, the home of the Quileute tribe. They were three miles away when they first heard the screams and smelled the blood. Carlisle's concern shot up and he took off in the direction of the disturbance without a second thought, his doctor's instinct to help overriding his instinct to feed. His senses told him his family had followed._

_As they closed the distance between them and whatever was happening, Carlisle picked up three distinct variations of the sweet scent of his own kind. They were not the only vampires hunting in the area it seemed, and this had to be handled delicately. Vampires were very territorial creatures and most respected the unspoken rule about not feeding on land that was claimed by a coven, though that could not be said in the Southern states. Unfortunately, Carlisle had yet to set boundaries claiming Forks as theirs to warn away others from feeding there, so they couldn't use that argument to stop the nomadic vampires mid-feed. It was unlikely they'd be able to stop them mid-feed with _any _argument, but it still had to be done if they hoped to give the humans any chance of surviving. Some vampires could be volatile on their best days, but while feeding? If a vampire thought their kill was being encroached upon, that volatility skyrocketed. Even Carlisle, who possessed almost supernatural control over his bloodlust, struggled with the innate instinct to protect his kills. This would not go over well, no matter how civilized these vampires might be._

_Carlisle cast a glance at Edward, and used his gift to ask, _"What can you hear?"

"It's a coven," _he answered, extending the conversation to everyone. _"The leader, his mate, and his oldest fledgling. They won't take kindly to our interruption_._"

"How unkindly do you think?" _Rosalie asked, her tone hard._

"I can't see the future," _Edward said, _"but from their memories and the tenor of their minds, I don't need that power to know that this isn't something we can resolve peacefully," _he continued, his words directed toward his maker. _"Not at first, at least."

_Carlisle nodded but didn't comment. There were situations in the vampire world in which pacifism had no place. He hated that this was true but it was reality. This was one of those situations and, as much as it saddened him, violence could not be avoided._

_When they arrived on the scene, they saw the two males with their mouths clamped onto a young woman and the female drinking from a boy no older than eight. Esme and Rosalie didn't hesitate to take on the female._

"Which is the coven leader?" _Carlisle demanded, eyeing the males as quick as lightning._

"On the left," _Edward responded._

"You and Emmett take the fledgling," _Carlisle directed calmly. _ _As head of the family, it was his responsibility to take on the other coven's leader. If they managed to separate these vampires from their meals without casualties, that was what the other coven would have expected because that was the order of things in the vampire world. He wouldn't waste valuable time he could be spending saving the humans' lives explaining that they were a family, so they were going to do things according to a dynamic the other vampires understood and wouldn't question._

_Carlisle heard growls and the sound of stone flesh colliding with stone flesh, very like thunder, but focused his attention on his combatant. The vampire glanced up, detecting the threat he posed, and snarled, pulling his teeth from his prey and crouching defensively over the young woman. Carlisle didn't pause before bowling him over, and they went tumbling over and over each other in a tangled mass of flailing limbs. Punches and kicks were exchanged, razor-sharp teeth sunk into flesh, but Carlisle was the better fighter. It wouldn't be long before he gained the upper hand and ended their struggle._

_The sharp, high-pitched metallic keening sound of the flesh of their kind being removed from their bodies filled the air, obscuring the sound of the waves that were so close. A pained shriek followed it and Carlisle knew it had come from Rosalie without having to look. He looked anyway and saw that his daughter was now missing her left arm. He let out an enraged snarl, but as angry as he was, his fury was nothing in comparison to Emmett's. At the sound of his mate's pain, he abandoned the fight with Edward and launched himself at the female, so amped up from his rage that he had her in pieces in seconds. Once that was done, he went to Rosalie, who was in a heap on the ground, trembling, and took her in his arms. She had gotten her revenge on Royce King, but her trauma still affected her, taking her by surprise when she least expected it. Losing an arm seemed to be a trigger for her and she needed Emmett more than the rest of them did in that moment._

_As soon as Emmett left Edward's side, Esme had taken his place. They weren't making much progress though. Edward's gift was an asset in a fight but he was still a fairly new vampire. He had no combat training and the other male was a scrappy fighter. Even with Esme's help, besting him was a challenge, but Carlisle could see, in his very brief assessment, that, while it was slow going, they were wearing him down ... until Esme faltered in her movements. The other vampire took advantage of this, backhanding her across the face and twisting her wrist so sharply the beginnings of that wretched metallic keening sounded. Esme was younger than Edward with even less training and now that his mate was in danger, Carlisle noticed how scarred the other male was. There weren't enough of them for him to be from the Southern Wars. If that were the case he and his maker wouldn't be so far north, but they were still proof he had spent a good bit of his existence fighting. Some vampires just went looking for battle wherever they went, and though Edward and Esme were picking up his technique as they fought, the other male still had the refined grace of experience on his side. He used Esme's weakened position and the brief distraction it caused to aim a kick to Edward's chest that sent him flying several dozen feet backward into a tree, which shattered deafeningly. _

_Carlisle let out an enraged howl at the injury to his mate, minor though it was, but knew he couldn't let up on his own opponent. That would invite more opportunity for injuries to his beloved family and that he would not allow. He would trust his son to protect the woman who was his life and heart. Edward would do this for him even if it killed him. He sometimes resented Carlisle for turning him but he loved him all the same and would not fail him in this._

_Edward made it back to the fight in record time and he and Esme began circling the other vampire in preparation to attack while Carlisle pinned the coven leader, flipping him over and pressing his front into the ground. He had his head in a vice-like grip, dirt kicking up as the other vampire struggled, redoubling his efforts and roaring in rage as he saw the pieces of his mate lying not far from his line of sight._

_Edward and Esme were about to take their opponent down when a wolf the size of a horse burst through the trees, snapping its teeth and leaping toward the only enemy vampire left standing, and tearing into him. The experienced fighter didn't immediately react, as shocked as he was at the appearance of the beast, but when he regained his bearings it was too late. Edward and Esme had joined the wolf in ripping him apart._

_The wolf turned on Edward and Esme the second the other male was in pieces, but Rosalie had recovered enough to return to the fight, her arm now reattached, so she and Emmett took up defensive positions alongside their brother and mother-figure._

_The wolf backed down, knowing it was outnumbered, and moved to stand protectively over the young woman and boy. It snarled viciously if anyone so much as looked at them._

_"Carlisle!" Edward called in disbelief. "He's a member of the Quileute tribe and a shapeshifter. The woman and boy are his wife and son."_

_"Emmett, Esme, Rose," Carlisle said, his tone commanding. He gestured to the vampire pinned beneath him, "Keep him under control."_

_C__arlisle approached the snarling wolf slowly, hands held up in a placating position, Edward at his side and mirroring his gesture. _

_"I'm not going to hurt your wife and child-" he began, looking to Edward to fill in the blank._

_"Ephraim," Edward supplied. "His name is Ephraim Black and he doesn't trust us. His job is to protect his people from vampires."_

_Edward flooded Carlisle's head with images of the past and how the Quileute wolves came to be, their origins at the forefront of Ephraim's mind._

_"I understand why you don't trust us," Carlisle placated, knowing this situation was just as precarious as their previous one, "but we aren't the ones who hurt your wife and son, and we won't hurt you."_

_The wolf's growls intensified and Carlisle imagined they were growls of incredulity._

_"Edward," Carlisle said carefully, "please show Ephraim what happened from the time we got here." As Edward began to do as he directed, the wolf's eyes widened, and Carlisle began to explain, "I'm Carlisle Cullen and this is my family. My son, Edward, is a telepath an__d he is using his gift to show you the events that transpired in your absence. If you'll let us, we can help your wife and son before it's too late."_

_"He says it is already too late," Edward translated. "He can smell us in their veins and he knows that if they don't die, they will turn. He doesn't want that."_

_Through his peripheral vision, Carlisle could see venom tears gathering in Esme's and Rose's eyes. As apathetic as Rose now was toward humans, she always lamented the death of a child and his Esme couldn't stand the death of love in any form._

_"It may not be too late," Carlisle said, his voice gentle. "I might be able to help them, but the more time that passes the more we risk losing the opportunity."_

_"He wants to know how," Edward translated again._

_"What you smell in their veins is our venom," Carlisle told him, looking directly into Ephraim's eyes. "My family and I feed from animals," he clearly, "not humans. It's why our eyes are gold and not red. I am a doctor with impeccable control and if I can remove the venom from their systems, it could prevent the transition."_

_The Ephraim wolf growled indignantly._

_"You don't want to know what he just said," Edward told him bleakly._

_Carlisle sighed. "Either you love your wife and son enough to give them a chance at surviving, or you let them die without exhausting every possible avenue that could save them. Which would you prefer to live with?"_

_The Ephraim wolf let out another fearsome snarl, saliva dripping from his teeth and lips._

_"Do it," Edward translated, "but he says he'll kill you if you're just using this as an excuse to feed on them."_

_Carlisle met Ephraim's gaze again and nodded. He went to the boy, kneeling by his side, and carefully gathering him in his arms. Then he sunk his teeth into the wounds that already punctured his skin and sucked, pulling as much tainted blood into his mouth as it could hold and spitting it to the side. It took four mouthfuls before the boy's blood was clean. It took six to clear the young woman's. _

_They had other injuries that needed to be tended to, but Ephraim Black's wife and son lived. The three vampires who'd attacked them did not and it was by the Cullens' hand that this was so._

_-End Flashback-_

There was silence for half a minute after the memory Edward had been broadcasting finished. The younger wolves were contemplative, and Billy and Talise were now wearing neutral expressions.

"Who is this human girl you plan to take in?" Talise asked, not acknowledging what had just been shown.

"We met her recently and she needs a home. We're going to give her one," Carlisle told them vaguely but with conviction, his expression turning hard.

"And her parents?" Billy inquired next, still not quite willing to concede.

"They are not in the picture," Carlisle said firmly, even though he didn't know anything concrete about Storm's parents.

"The foster system isn't an option?" Talise continued.

"No," Carlisle answered, his voice still firm, unyielding.

Billy and Talise exchanged a sidelong look full of meaning and then sighed. "We will be keeping a close eye on this human girl. If one hair on her head is harmed ..." Billy trailed off in warning.

Carlisle smiled. "I expect nothing less."

oOo

_Seven days later ..._

BPOV

I was in New York City and had been for a week. Why was I in New York City? Because that was where the best forger in the country lived.

His name was Connor Jameson, a 29 year old, billionaire socialite playboy who came from old money, and had gone into the business both out of boredom and to piss off daddy. Daddy was Seamus Jameson of the Jameson Whiskey legacy. The family had since branched out into other business ventures, namely real estate, stocks, and cutting edge technology, though whiskey was still their main bread and butter. As profitable as those other things were, the world would never run out of alcoholics.

Connor was the youngest of four sons. Seamus ran the whiskey empire while one of his brothers each headed up another branch of the family business. Connor had been deemed the screw up, the black sheep, at an early age, always falling short of Daddy's expectations. Eventually he gave into his allotted role but he'd never stopped seeking his father's attention. Becoming a forger had been a way to simultaneously gain that attention while sticking it to Daddy Dearest. Doing it in the States of all places, to which he'd relocated from Ireland when he was twenty, was the most dangerous yet effective place to do this. Of course, that would have worked a hell of a lot better if Seamus actually knew about his son's extracurricular activities but Connor couldn't exactly tell him about it. He hadn't realized that when he'd begun his foray into the criminal underworld but he'd figured that out pretty damn quick.

A person had to be smart and resourceful both to survive and thrive in that environment, _and_ to be worth their salt when it came to forging, so Connor's lack of common sense in the beginning had quickly fled once he had gotten a taste of the clientele he'd be working with, though he'd been smart enough even then to obscure his identity. By the time he figured out his plan to piss his father off wasn't quite as foolproof as he'd initially thought, he'd discovered he liked it enough to keep at it. That hadn't changed in the near decade he'd been working to make himself one of the best known forgers in the world and _the_ best forger in the United States. He liked walking on the wild side, living on the edge, or whatever some rich kids liked to call taking risks they didn't have to take when they had a perfectly cushy life that didn't require committing felonies to keep. It was the thrill of it that kept him in it, like the high a person got when they took a hit of their drug of choice or the rush of adrenaline that accompanied those stupid, reckless acts people sometimes committed just to prove to themselves they were alive.

How did I know Connor Jameson was the best forger in the country? Because I kept my ears open. Everywhere I went I listened and collected information, storing it away just in case it might come in handy later on. Plus, it was always useful to know the major players in every place I ended up whether they were politicians, the heads of every major police department, mob bosses, or any others of that nature. Knowing who they were made it easier to avoid them. I had lived in New York City for a month just before my sixteenth birthday which was how I knew who he was and who he ran with in both the legitimate and illegitimate worlds of the city.

Did the government know that Connor Jameson was the best forger in the country? No, they didn't. Yes, they were far more vigilant than they had been before the terrorist attacks in 2012. Yes, they had succeeded in damn near eliminating everyone who had ever even considered taking up that particular occupation, but the government wasn't perfect. Things and people still slipped through the cracks.

Criminals always had a need for forged and counterfeited documents and other various things, and while most people were smart enough to be discouraged into going into that line of work, now that there were so few left who were willing to take up the art of it, they cashed in much bigger paychecks for their services. Because of the crackdowns, criminals had gotten smarter out of necessity, their underbelly burrowing ever deeper as the years passed. They required all kinds of counterfeited shit more than they ever had, and were willing to shell out the cash to pay the even more exorbitant price tags those few forgers put on them. Greed was a great motivator for far too many people even with capital punishment as a deterrent.

Obviously, Connor wasn't in it for the money. He didn't need it. He did it not only for the thrill but because he was an elitist bastard who wasn't satisfied with the fact that he had more worldly possessions than most millionaires combined. He wasn't happy unless he had proven he was better than everyone else. There were several ways in which he sought to do this and succeeded, but that was during his day "job." Though his reputation as a forger was by far his pride and joy, most people couldn't know about that particular talent of his. The people in his uppercrust social circle didn't matter when it came to that though. Not to him or not anymore, at least. All the right people, meaning the most vile criminals our country and the world had to offer, knew his alias, Da Vinci. He was well-respected by them, which was what he had been after. This made up for his father not having a clue.

I was probably the only person who knew he was Da Vinci because I was awesome like that.

In all honesty, I had no need of Connor Jameson. He may have been known as the best forger and counterfeiter in the United States and one of the best in the world, but I was better simply because of my origins. I had keener eyesight, a steadier hand, a better eye for detail. I was more thorough, thinking of things he never would have thought to and just had more talent all around. He had several things I didn't, however; like the equipment needed to make the birth certificate, driver's license, and various other things I needed to prove that whatever alias I chose next was a real, legitimate person; the ones that would allow me to live with the Cullens and discover Jane Doe's identity as well as that of her killer.

If I wanted to stay under the government's radar, it would take me weeks, if not months, to gather all the parts required to build equipment of my own as well as the materials needed for the documents themselves. Staying under the government's radar was a definite necessity for me and I didn't have that kind of time, so I was going to "borrow" Connor Jameson's. Sure, I _could_ have used another forger's machinery but Connor had the best, and I needed the best. If I was going to violate the Safe Citizens Act I might as well go the whole nine yards. So there I was in New York, preparing to put yet another plan into motion.

I had considered and discarded several options that would have gained me access to his equipment over the last six days, spending the first of the seven I had been here getting my bearings and strategizing. The first of the two most prevalent had been the traditional cat burglar route but after casing his mansion in the Hamptons, I had come to the conclusion that it just wasn't feasible.

The guy had no surveillance cameras. He was too paranoid for that because if the feds caught onto him, all those would do was provide evidence that would fuck him over. That did work in my favor, but despite their absence he did have a very high tech, top-of-the-line security system. I wasn't worried about disabling it, but there were other concerns with that option that I couldn't ignore.

Making quality forged documents wasn't something that took a few minutes or even a few hours. There was quite a bit of science involved, but when it came down to it, at its core, it was an art form. For the birth certificate, I had to choose the right ink, the right paper depending on the state I chose to be from, which in turn depended on the selection of paper Connor had available. I had to perfectly apply the correct state seal, use and apply the correct watermark in just the right way, make sure that watermark showed up when held to light exactly as it was supposed to, age the paper and degrade the ink to match exactly how many years it would have given my age, choose a hospital, a birthdate, parents' names, as well as other numerous details, and none of those details could be left out.

For the driver's license, I had to use just the right kind of plastic which burned to black ash if it was genuine and gray if it wasn't. I had to superimpose my picture and the right hologram onto said plastic, and depending on the state, add any number of specific and unique details that if left out could peg it as a fake. Also, in the wake of the terrorist attacks, computer chips had been embedded into the plastic to ensure traceability and authenticity. When scanned, they produced a 3-D hologram of a picture that could be no older than eight weeks and a security code that changed every two. The fines for any sort of traffic violation weren't any more severe than they were before but it was part of the Safe Citizens Act.

It was all very fucking complicated, and those weren't the only things I needed to create.

Like I said, it was an art and that shit took time. It all had to be perfection. Even though I doubted Forks was the most strict about those things, I couldn't risk being wrong about it. Besides, I wasn't willing to half-ass it. I took pride in my work and I hadn't been built to half-ass things anyway. I supposed that wasn't the most accurate way to phrase my conception, though it was true to a point, but there was no part of me that was machine. I was absolutely, 100% organic.

As I mentioned, Connor Jameson was paranoid. Because of his line of work he had to be and, except for the odd vacation and social events in the city proper, he almost always spent his nights at home in the Hamptons. That meant he would come home in the middle of the construction of my masterpieces and catch me red-handed. I didn't have a problem with that. A knockout punch, coming up behind him and choking him out, or using drugs of some kind, all topped off with restraints, were options I could use to subdue him without revealing my face until I was finished.

_Wouldn't hurt to hit him once or twice, would it? _I smirked to myself, pleased at the prospect.

What I did have a problem with was that in the six days I had been surveilling Connor, he had come home with a different woman every night. It was not okay to hold an innocent woman against her will, no matter that she may or may not be a gold-digging social climber, so that option was out.

The second option was more complicated and the idea of it made me more than a little nauseous. It also had me seriously questioning why the hell I was doing all of this.

_A__re the Cullens really worth all this hassle, Bella?_ I found myself asking every five minutes, Jasper fucking Whitlock's face involuntarily worming its way into my head. This, of course, infuriated me but I always managed to banish it and remind myself that I wasn't doing this for them _or_ him. I was doing this for Jane.

In two days time, a charity masquerade ball was being held at The Plaza hotel, located on New York's 5th Avenue near Central Park. Connor Jameson would be attending and his penchant for dipping his dick into every pussy that presented itself to him would provide me with the perfect opportunity to implement this plan of mine. That penchant would be his undoing.

I had swiped an invitation from the ball coordinator, which had been easy. Even though he had a team of well-trained, experienced employees yes-sirring his flamboyantly gay ass like his shit smelled like roses, they were swamped. Forging something like that was far less difficult than all the other things I was soon going to be. It took much less time, so I had duplicated it to perfection in minutes and slipped it back to him with him being none the wiser for it. I had then hacked his hard drive and added my fictional name to the guest list to cover all my bases.

The idea was that I would go to the ball and get Connor to take _me_ home with him. Then I wouldn't have to deal with breaking into his ridiculously extravagant mansion that made the Cullens' look minimalist in comparison or disabling his security system. He would be doing that for me. It also solved the problem of having to hold an innocent, if slutty, woman against her will. It wasn't the most favorite of plans I had ever come up with but I couldn't care about that. It's not like I was going to sleep with the guy. That was gross on so many levels I couldn't even count them, and I hadn't been kidding when I'd told Alice there were lines I wouldn't cross. Besides, when was I ever going to get the chance to go a masquerade ball again? I could have fun with this if I wanted to. Maybe.

At the very least, as long as I didn't let him touch me in excess, fucking with Connor would be hilarious.

oOo

_Two days later - The Masquerade Ball ..._

I had just arrived at The Plaza's grand ballroom, which had been decked out with a Phantom of the Opera-ish theme. The affair was black tie and I was dressed to the nines. My gown was designer and had come with such a disgustingly high price tag it made me gag. It was black with a sweetheart neckline and a fitted bodice that had fancy, swirling patterns of embroidery with little flower detail stitched into the silk it was made of. It hugged my torso in a very flattering way and pushed my breasts up alluringly. It flared out at the hips into a full skirt in that foofy way most ball gowns did. My shoes were painfully expensive but simple, black Christian Louboutin stilettos. They were a sky high five inches but my balance and gait were as impeccable as ever, and they certainly helped me swish my ass back and forth like a fucking pendulum, which would be beneficial later on in the evening as I tried to seduce Connor.

Both the dress and the shoes were gorgeous but still functional for me. Though the gown showed some nice cleavage, it was tight around the girls and down around my rib cage and waist but still allowed for fluid movement. In other words, I wouldn't have to worry about flashing the nips if there came the sudden need to throw a punch. The looseness of the skirt around my hips and the diaphanous fabric didn't hinder movement either, allowing for the delivery of flawless kicks or uncompromised hauling ass if the need for it arose. I would still need to rip it up the center and sides to deliver those kicks, and those nearly invisible modifications had already been made. Plus, the fabric was dark, so in the instance that blood was shed, it wouldn't really show.

There wasn't such a thing as the perfect dress to fight in but this was decent enough.

I had chosen the shoes for similar reasons, though I suppose one might scoff at that idea. That didn't change the fact that I could fight just as well in stilettos as I could in any other type of shoe. It wasn't the altitude that was the issue with them, it was how well the shoe would hold up in a fight. They weren't the most sturdy of options in those types of situations but as long as they were chosen carefully, a girl could make them work. These particular Louboutins had a deceptively strong sole and heel, fused to each other in a way that was rare for that kind of shoe. The stiletto heel of the shoes themselves tapered sharply enough that they could be used to make a punishing kick all the more intense, so I had made a good choice. While I didn't foresee myself getting into a balls-to-the-wall brawl in this outfit, it was still good to be prepared.

_If you're going to throw down at least you'll look nice doing it,_ I thought with a mental shrug.

To go with the dress and shoes, I had a small fortune in diamonds adorning my neck, ears and right ring finger, my titanium bracelet a serious eyesore around my wrist but that I could still absolutely, under no circumstances take off. I was wearing black, fingerless silk gauntlet gloves with embroidery that matched that of the dress and came up just passed my elbows as well. My mask was all beautiful black whorls, twists, curlicues and swirls with cat's ears, those whorls, twists, curlicues and swirls reminiscent of the dress's embroidery, and yet more diamonds inlaid in the brow. There were a number of choices besides the cat's ears that I could have gone with but, honestly, what quicker way to get a man to think of pussy than that?

When all was said and done, my getup for the evening came in at a grand total of $54,392.31, not counting the near $500,000 in diamonds on loan from Harry Winston (I was damn good at sweet talking people when I had a mind to and I would be returning it when all this was said and done) none of which came from my 'Jane' fund. No, this outfit was courtesy of all the rich as shit schmucks and criminals I'd beat the pants off of playing cards and whatnot at some of the high class casinos and underground gambling clubs here in the city - my go-to for quick cash. I hadn't limited myself to poker, though I had indulged in some seven card stud, this time choosing to mix it up with blackjack, craps, and roulette. I'd played cautiously at each place, only winning up to a certain amount, which was different for each establishment, and making sure to lose enough so as not to draw suspicion.

I had never worn an outfit worth so much in my life nor had I ever been so labeled up. Prada, Louboutin, Harry Winston, Chanel, blah, blah, bitty blah. It was the first time I had ever put so much thought or effort into this kind of thing. On a typical day, I didn't pay attention to which brand of t-shirt, jeans, shoes, or accessories I wore. It wasn't that I didn't have fashion sense, I just didn't give a fuck. A shirt was a shirt was a shirt as far as I was concerned, but shit like that mattered to the people here so, for the foreseeable future, it had to matter to _me_ because I wasn't Bella at the moment. I was a high society debutante looking to titter and curtsy her way into the pants of one of New York's most eligible bachelors.

To complete the look, my hair was currently a rich, fiery red, falling into loose but voluminous curls down my back, spilling over my shoulders, and framing my face. Most of the women here had their hair fashioned into some sort of updo, and I figured this was a way that I could make myself stand out without resorting to overt sluttiness.

My eyes were no longer brown but the golden hue of the Cullens'. I had looked into several of their eyes for more than three seconds, which was all I needed to duplicate someone's retinas. That didn't always mean replicating the color but, in this case, when disguising my looks was vital, I thought it appropriate. They were smudged with smokey shadow behind my mask, my lips were a tantalizing dark red and a light dusting of blush stained my cheeks. I didn't need foundation and I didn't have to worry about making myself look older than I was. I had a more developed body than most girls my age and with the mask to obscure my features, no one would be able to tell I was only seventeen and not the twenty-four I was claiming.

I wondered briefly if Jasper would think I looked pretty. I scowled at the sudden, inappropriate, and very unwanted thought but amended it quickly. I had to be genial and elegant at all times in this place, no matter if I felt the opposite, because I was painting a picture of the character I was supposed to be. I couldn't drop the ball on that.

_Goddamn it!_ I cursed. Apparently, with thousands of miles between us, it was easier for me to forget that Jasper was a back-stabbing douche. There were no words for how much I hated that the fucker could still get under my skin in spite of everything that had gone down in Louisville.

Even if things were different between us, whether or not Jasper fucking Whitlock thought I looked pretty didn't matter. It never had and it never would. Idly, though it had nothing to do with my current situation, the sound of his name niggled at the back of my mind and not because he annoyed the shit out of me but because it was familiar somehow. I just couldn't place it.

I shook my head not quite imperceptibly to clear it. _His name is absolutely irrelevant right now, Bella. His name is the most irrelevant name in the history of mankind, in fact. Get your head in the game and get back to business!_

As I moved forward into the ballroom, my eyes scanned the crowd for telltale signs of Connor Jameson. He was not quite 6'3" with sandy hair and startling green eyes. He had a cocky swagger that was slightly off due to a knee injury from a skiing accident five years ago, which was always more pronounced when the weather was cold. Seeing as it was October in New York City, the temperature fit that bill so he would be walking around leaning on a polished ebony cane with a silver snake's head as a result. He always did when he came to shit like this in this kind of weather. It was a trademark of sorts because even though this was a charity masquerade ball, it was still an event at which the richest of the rich came to show off just how filthy rich they were. They couldn't do that if their fellow socialites had no idea who was whom.

It took me all of thirty-seven seconds to spot him. Part of it had to do with all the aforementioned things. The rest of it had to do with my keen sense of smell. During my surveillance of him, I had noticed he always smelled like the rarest Jameson vintage reserve whiskey, Cuban cigars, Clive Christian No. 1 cologne - the most expensive cologne in the world - and benzine, a chemical used in the trade that he could never quite eliminate the scent of. It was so faint that no one else would have picked up on it, so I guess it was a good thing I wasn't just anyone.

I waited an hour to approach him. I couldn't just go up to him like he was the only reason I had shown up and even then, I didn't go straight to him because I had to seem at least a little disinterested at first. I sashayed in his direction in an elegant yet sexy manner, which I now knew how to do thanks to my employment at a bar in conjunction with careful observation of the Cullen women, and working my Louboutins like a model on a runway. I then arranged myself near enough for him to see me and pique his interest. He was still speaking with some of his snootier acquaintances but, through my peripheral vision, I knew he had noticed me. As soon as he ditched Snooty #1 and Snooty #2, he was at my side.

"Hello," he greeted in his Irish brogue. It was strong but not so strong that his words were unintelligible.

The only thing I could think as he said that one word was that his accent was all wrong. _Fuck, Bella! You seriously need to get your head checked, only for batshit craziness instead of medically jello gooeyness. You hate Jasper remember? You. Hate. Him._

"Hello," I returned coyly. I knew how to flirt now too but only in situations like this. Any other ones and I was still hopelessly … well, hopeless.

He took my hand and brought it to his lips. I shuddered. He mistook it for a shiver of pleasure, a sign of attraction, could never possibly guess his touch actually made my skin crawl. I managed to keep the smile on my face but just barely.

"Would you care to dance with me-" Connor inquired suavely, his brows raised.

"Rosalie," I answered coquettishly, a borderline seductive smile curling my lips, "and I would love to."

He took my hand again, leading me to the dance floor and placing one of his hands at my waist while the other held my arm in a formal position. When the music from the quartet transitioned from one song into another, he guided me into a waltz, whirling me about the polished floor like a seasoned pro. I supposed he was. I was a little awkward at first, never having waltzed before, but after the first set of steps, my form was as flawless as though I'd been doing it all my life. That was one of the perks of being what I was, learning things almost instantly, and since I was playing the part of rich, socialite princess it came in handy.

We danced for an hour and a half, our conversation full of flirtation, _gag_, and suggestive but contradictorily chaste little touches, _dry heave_, that gave him precisely the impression I had intended to give him, _double dry heave_. It made me feel kind of dirty but I'd already determined I was going to take one for the team, and I wasn't going to allow him to touch me much more. I knew the consequences of that and wasn't willing to go there again, but I still had a mission to complete and I was close to doing it.

"You wanna get out of here, lass?" Connor asked, leaning in close to whisper in my ear.

Cue another misconstrued, repulsed shudder.

_Score!_ I cheered, doing an internal fist pump and thinking of Emmett despite my revulsion. I was relieved I wouldn't have to put on this ruse for much longer.

"Please."

oOo

The forty-five minute helicopter ride to Connor's mansion in the Hamptons had started out very uncomfortable. The guy was a handsy dick who thought with nothing _but_ his dick, and it had taken some convincing to get him to keep those hands of his to himself. The strategic mention of blindfolds and restraints did the trick, and he spent the remainder of the trip talking about what he was going to do to me once he got me into them - _double and triple gag_. Of course, he may have made the assumption that _I_ would end up in them, but I never did clarify who would be blindfolding and restraining whom. That was his bad, not mine.

It had been thirty-six hours since then, and Connor had spent eighteen of them unconscious.

_Thank fucking God!_

I had slipped a decent dose of rohypnol into his single malt when we'd first returned to his place, and it had acted quickly in conjunction with all the other alcohol he'd consumed at the charity ball. There were many things I was going to hell for but roofie-ing this asshole was not one of them. He catered to all kinds of scumbags, enabling them to do all kinds of scumbag things; thus making him a scumbag himself, and I hadn't harmed a hair on his head, not even to hit him as I had so been looking forward to doing. He _was_ currently handcuffed to a chair though, with a black hood over his head and his own ball gag stuffed into his mouth. The guy was buckets full of kinky, apparently, but I didn't know anything about shit like that, so maybe he wasn't as freaky as I was assuming.

We were in the hidden, highly secure room he used to make his forgeries. All I had needed was his fingerprints, a replica of his retinas, both of which I had gotten earlier in the evening, a sample of his voice, and a passcode. The latter two hadn't been difficult to get my hands on. I had the subject in question with me after all, and Connor Jameson was smart, but he was no Einstein. He had somewhat cleverly hidden the access panels to the room in what appeared to be an antique music box sitting on a bookshelf just behind the desk in his office. He was with me now as I made my own forgeries only so I could monitor his vitals after giving him those drugs. My goal was to subdue him and keep him drugged up enough that he'd have very little memory of the last couple days, not kill him. Right now, he was semi-conscious and whimpering like a little bitch.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, suck it up, Connor. There is no need to be such a pussy about this."

It probably wasn't the best idea to let him hear my voice but he already had anyway, and taking away his ability to hear was sensory deprivation more or less. That was torture and even though the douche may have been into bondage, I doubted he'd appreciate anything more hardcore. Besides, I would not go there. That didn't stop me from being annoyed as fuck when he started whining again, and I wasn't exaggerating or being callous. A certain amount of bitching, moaning, and shaking in your boots was to be expected when you were being held prisoner in your own home, but the guy was blubbering like a colicky newborn. It was not attractive.

"My God," I griped irritably, "I haven't even threatened you!" And I truly hadn't. I didn't have any guns on me and the only knife of my own I had on my person was the blade hidden in my bracelet, which I had no intention of using. I had barely even spoken to the guy and I had never taken off the black hood or my mask, which was generally a sign a captor wasn't planning on using deadly force. I had no reason to want Connor dead and killing may have been something I was created to do, but that didn't mean I was all knife and gun happy.

A disturbing thought popped into my head then. "I really hope that's not how you sound during sex because that would just be all kinds of sad and embarrassing."

An indignant noise came from underneath the hood and I rolled my eyes again, chuckling. _Figures taking a dig at something sex-related would get him to stop sounding like he lost his balls in a poker game._

Maybe my chuckle had sounded sinister or something and that was why his anger retreated up into him in the way the balls he apparently _didn't_ have would after he took a dip in a frigid lake because he went right back to sounding pitiful after that. The whimpering set my teeth on edge and I couldn't seem to shake the thought of him making those noises in bed. The reason for this could have been because of the tone I'd initially set for this mission and another disturbing thought struck me.

"God, I hope that's not how all guys sound during sex because if so I'm seriously reconsidering ever having it," I mused aloud, but then a growl echoed in my head, a fucking _sexy_ growl that made me shiver in a way that had nothing to do with disgust.

_Fucking A!_ I groaned, stepping back from the artwork that was my counterfeit driver's license so that my suddenly trembling hands wouldn't fuck up its perfection. _Really, Bella? Seriously?_

I shook my head to clear it, the way I often seemed to have to do when thoughts of Jasper fucking Whitlock crept into my brain without permission, and took a few deep breaths. Why was that idiot always fucking with my carefully cultivated self-discipline? And was that even what it was he skewed within me? I never had been able to figure that out. No matter what it was, it was annoying as hell. A few more deep breaths and summoning forth the self-discipline I had lost my grip on, I got back to work, but not before putting Connor back under. It wasn't that I couldn't get what I needed to get done finished with his whining as background noise but it was grating on my nerves and if I didn't _have_ to ...

oOo

_Twenty-four Hours Later ..._

I had left Connor Jameson in his bed, stripped down to his boxers, _quadruple_ gag. I was so not willing to see him naked. Just ... no. The first time I saw a naked man in the flesh, because I inevitably would, it would not be him and it would not be like that. I rumpled the sheets and sprayed Chanel No. 5 on the pillow so it both looked and smelled like I'd slept next to him, and then pulled a brand new pair of black lace boyshorts out of the Prada clutch I'd bought to match my ball gown, tossing them in a random direction. Then I riffled through his drawers for one of his silk handkerchiefs, not worried about leaving fingerprints behind since I had spread super glue over my fingertips. It was an old Black Ops trick that I took advantage of when I went cat burgling. Once I found a handkerchief I deemed appropriate, I sprayed it with Chanel No. 5 as well, scrawled, _Had a great time, Love, Rosalie,_ in red lipstick with the "love" as one of those big, loopy girly hearts. I left a kiss on it in the same lipstick for him, _cringe, _and left it on his bedside table.

Connor Jameson would remember nothing about what had really gone on in the two plus days between the masquerade ball and the time he woke up. I had made sure of that, and the evidence of our "rendezvous" that I'd left behind would instantly have him filling in the blanks in whatever way helped him sleep at night.

Now I was sitting on the roof just above the 102nd-story observation deck of the Empire State Building, my feet flat and knees bent with my elbows resting carelessly atop them as I gazed out at the city lit up at night. It was peaceful up here. That was one of the things I liked about high places. They made me feel like I was on top of the world, like no one could touch me. It was nice.

All my preparations were complete and perfect … flawless. I had everything I needed to legitimately be someone else. All that was left to do was return to Forks, and the Cullens, and be that person.

When I got there, I would be Bella Crawfield, a girl from Fairfield, California who had gotten her driver's license in Montana. California was the best place I could have chosen to be from since it was still a little shaky from the aftermath of the attacks, and people tended to treat those from there with kid gloves. I wouldn't get asked many in depth questions because of that choice. Would I get asked the typical gossipy questions? There was no avoiding that no matter where I had chosen to be from, but I was going to rely on the Cullens' air of privileged invulnerability to stem that as much as possible. That didn't mean I was going to proclaim myself Stepford Cullen spawn though.

This was the first time I had ever used my real name when I set up shop somewhere, and it had been a tough decision to make. In the end, despite the fact that he was a bastard, Jasper was right. Names _were_ important and part of my doing this was so I could try to figure out who Bella was. Who _I_ was. I couldn't do that if I was using a name that wasn't mine and, truth be told, I was looking forward to being called by my name. It had been so fucking long since I had been.

I got to my feet, surveying the cityscape around me, searching for the right building and smiling when I found it. I crouched down like a sprinter preparing to race, pressing my foot to the edge of the roof and using my strong legs to launch myself into the air. I went zipping through space, the wind stinging my skin, and laughed as I picked up speed. I loved doing stuff like this. It felt like I was flying and it gave me a sense of freedom I rarely ever felt. The exhilaration of it was intoxicating.

My aerial adventure lasted all of ten seconds before I collided with the side of the building I'd chosen. I struck it the way a feather would, light and without sound, gripping the sides of the building with my toes and fingertips, which were good not only for obscuring my identity but for helping me climb by producing a sticky substance that gave me better traction as I scaled things.

I had to admit, there were some things about being me that were pretty damn cool.

My smile widened.

oOo

**A/N:** So this is what I made you wait for.

As I'm sure you noticed, I decided to come up with a different take on why the treaty was formed. I just wanted to do something different, so I gave it a shot. When I think of Talise Black, Catherine Zeta-Jones is who pops into my head for some reason. I don't really know why.

As I'm sure you also noticed, this chapter was a bit off tack. Some of you might be wondering why I would write this so I will give you an answer. For starters, I wanted to demonstrate just how far Bella is willing to go for a taste of normal, to make things right with Jane Doe, and yes, to be with the Cullens even though she can't admit that. I also wanted to demonstrate more of what she is capable of and just how resourceful she is. I wanted to show a bit more of how the world has changed in the wake of the terrorist attacks since it really doesn't seem all that different from now, and it should since story is set so far in the future. Also, I have a great love for spy movies, television shows and books, and I could not resist the opportunity to take a stab at writing a spy-style mission of sorts. To be frank, it was fun as hell to write. :)

Next week Bella is back in Forks where she belongs. :)

I do NOT in any way condone drugging people by the way! Don't do it. It's not cool. Disclaimer over.

I would like to thank my brother-in-law, the Jay of my sister's penname Shelljayz, for coming up with the code name Da Vinci for the Connor Jameson character.

I got the Black Ops super glue trick info from _Person of Interest,_ one of those awesome spy shows I mentioned having a great love for. I got the benzine thing from an episode of _White Collar_ (Matt Bomer is delicious and the show is great too ;)). I don't know if benzine is actually used as forgery for that stuff, but according to the show it is used in the forgery of something else, and I already looked up enough illegal crap for this chapter so I didn't bother to check.

You can find photos of Bella's outfit on my photobucket page aside from her mask which would not upload for some reason, the link to which is on my profile page. Harry Winston jewelry is outrageously expensive and the stuff I picked for her didn't have prices listed so I estimated. All of the prices were randomly estimated actually because when it comes to designer stuff, I know very little.

Anyway, that's all for now my dears until the outtake which is posted next! ;)


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer, but her characters are fun to play with so I'm making them do my bidding for the foreseeable future. Jasper as the God of War and Peter 'just knowing shit' are ideas that belong to IDreamofEddy. I do own the plot and original characters of Longing though.

Thank you to my wonderful beta and friend, Laurie Whitlock, my sister, beta/pre-reader, Shelljayz. I love you guys so much! :)

Thank you so much to everyone who has followed, favorited, reviewed or just plain stopped by to read or visit. I love you all! :)

This outtake goes into what Jasper does to make up for nearly attacking Emmett and Rosalie. Even though they aren't aware of what almost happened he still felt the need for penance of some kind.

oOo

**Longing Chapter 24 Outtake #1**

_October 2080_

_The day after the meeting with the wolves ..._

EmPOV

"Pack your shit, Em," Jasper said without preamble as he barged in the door of my workshop. I wasn't as particular about people violating my personal space as he was but it still would have been nice if he'd fucking knocked. What if I'd been building something embarrassing or illicit in here? Then again, I didn't really give a shit if he saw one of my more … deviant … projects. I'd never really had any shame. I didn't see the point in developing some now.

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "Not that I'm not down for random road trips, Jazzman, but what's the deal and where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," he answered, "so get up off your ass and pack your shit. Don't make me repeat myself again."

I rolled my eyes. "You can stow the Major bullshit, Jazz. You don't have to tell me twice, er, three times."

"And yet you still have not gotten up off your ass," he returned smartly.

_Asshole! _I was a goofy fucker but Jasper and Peter were the kings of sarcasm. Edward never could decide if he wanted to be goofy, sarcastic, moody, a sex fiend, or whatever else. I suspected that's why he brooded and looked constipated while doing it.

_"Emmett!"_ Edward snapped from in the house. _"If you're gonna take a shot at me, you might as well do it out loud. That way when I kick your ass, everyone will know it's because I have bigger, _better _balls than yours and that you're just a pansy ass who can't back up his shit talking!"_

His inner voice was irritated but he was joking too. That was one of the things I loved about my brother: he may brood from time to time, but he could take a joke and dish one right back out. Too often, those with brooding tendencies were pussies with no spine and too much fucking estrogen. Not Edward. No, there was absolutely nothing wrong with Ed's spine or his balls. Aside from being Alice's bitch, just as I was Rose's, there was not an ounce of estrogen in that boy's body; despite the fact that his mad piano genius might suggest otherwise to some.

_"Oh, I can back it up,"_ I promised. He knew I could and wasn't someone to be trifled with, and I knew the same about him but we were brothers; brothers talked shit about _everything_.

_"Why don't we put that to the test when you get back from your trip?"_ I could hear the grin in his voice and I grinned too.

_"You're on," _I agreed. Then I redirected my attention to Jasper. "What shit do I need to pack?"

"A change of clothes," he replied with a smile, "maybe two."

"That's it?"

"Yep."

"Is anyone else going to be joining us on this illustrious journey?" I asked jovially.

I was getting really fucking excited ... well, more excited; Storm was moving in with us in less than two weeks and I could not wait. I loved surprises and Jasper was looking happy at the moment. He very rarely ever looked happy, content maybe, but happiness that was his own ... yeah, I wasn't going to go there. I was a genius but even the complicatedness of Jasper's mind fuckery was too much for me, and I hardly knew anything about it. That was really fucking saying something. Seeing him happy was making me all warm and tingly, in a not gay way, and I wanted to be around for the duration of that shit, even if he hadn't been projecting lately.

"I am, of course," Peter announced from behind me.

"Of course you are," I said with a roll of my eyes, "because wherever the Jazzman goes, you're right up his ass."

I had to admit I was disappointed. Peter was my man, my bro, my partner in fucking crime, but I hadn't had any quality man-to-man time with Jasper in ages. As much as I loved my prank buddy, I'd been hoping it was just going to be me and Jazz. As for Edward, I loved the guy and we were close, but he and I didn't always have much in common. Jasper got me in a way he didn't. Oh well. I could roll with it.

Pete shrugged. "If you're not talkin' in a balls deep kinda way, 'cause that would get me ripped to pieces, bein' up the Major's ass isn't always a bad place to be."

My expression was horrified as I stared at him. "There is something seriously wrong with you."

"You haven't seen him in action," he said offhandedly.

I hadn't and as dangerous as I'd heard he was, I wanted to.

Jasper's spine straightened and his jaw clenched. "We're changin' the subject, _now_."

"Alright, alright," I conceded and then mumbled under my breath, "buzz kill."

"Just get your ass packed."

I moved to the house and up to my room to do as Jasper requested. As I was trying to decide what I should take (Alice would tan my hide if I ruined the wrong thing), a thought occurred to me.

_"You okay with not going bro?"_ I asked Edward.

_"Jazz asked, but I declined. I know you need the bonding time, and I've got plans with Ali."_

"_You're cool bro. Have I mentioned that lately?"_

"_Nah, but you can make up for itby not calling me constipated, asshole!" _ he said.

"_Sure thing,"_ I promised, but we both knew that would only last for a month tops.

oOo

_Katmai National Park, Alaska_

"Gee, Jazz, I wonder why we're here in Katmai hunting Grizzlies instead of in Denali," I teased.

It was no secret that Jasper's last visit to our extended family was a disaster. His "fuck buddy" relationship with Kate worked for the two of them. They were good friends that occasionally had no strings sex. He didn't talk about it, she didn't talk about it, they tried to be discreet because that was the kind of people they were, but we all knew that shit. We were vampires. It was hard _not_ to know. Truthfully, if Jasper wasn't so screwed up, I thought that maybe something more between the two of them just might be good for him but it wasn't up to me. Whether it was up to me or not, he needed someone to make him believe he was loveable in that way, and Kate had already half-succeeded in that he didn't think of her as a sister figure. At least I hoped he didn't … 'cause ewww.

It was his relationships with Tanya and Irina that didn't fly. They were clingy. They wanted more from him than I suspected he believed he was capable of giving. He hadn't touched them because of that in decades so I had no idea why he'd broken that rule, but whatever. Things were still fucking awkward.

"Because there's a more abundant population of them here," he said seriously. I envied his poker face.

It was true about the population, though not by much. I didn't care. We were hunting Grizzlies and neither Jasper nor Peter would be taking phone calls or text messages from anyone while we were doing it. I loved Edward but honestly!

"Of course, that's why," I humored him. He hadn't had to take me on this hunting trip so I didn't see the purpose in giving him shit.

Four days, three Grizzlies, a change of clothes later and some quality brother bonding time, and I was a sufficiently happy man. The only thing that would have made things better would be a very naked Rose writhing underneath me.

"Dude," Jasper protested with a grimace. "Knock that shit off before I lose all the blood I've drunk the past four days."

I smirked. "You're just jealous because you don't have a hot woman to lose yourself in."

He huffed but didn't respond. Instead he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to me. I studied it but didn't have a fucking clue what it was.

"What's this, dude?" I asked curiously.

"It's an address, dumbass," Peter chimed in. "

I can see that," I remarked, "but it isn't an address I recognize, and I don't understand why you've given it to me."

Jasper shrugged, giving me a sly smile. "Why don't you go there and find out? The directions are on the back."

oOo

The address ended up being a beautiful, three bedroom ranch house in Homer, Alaska that sat on three and half acres of land with a lake view and private forest area. It was exquisitely landscaped, not too big, but not too small. I got tired of the grandiosity of our everyday life sometimes. It was perfect, not as secluded as our usual places, but secluded enough. That didn't really matter though. I still had no idea what the hell this place was.

What made it even more perfect was that my Rosie was here. I'd smelled her from two miles off, and I'd pushed myself that much harder so I would get to her that much faster. As great as the last four days had been, I missed my woman. The door was unlocked, though to get to Rose I would have broken the damn door down if I had to. I followed her scent, noting as I walked through the house that it was very nicely and tastefully furnished but lacked Esme's distinct flair.

My wife was in the master bedroom, posed provocatively on the bed, and wearing some see-through, lace bustier/garter thing that I could not guarantee would survive for longer than five seconds.

"Hey, baby," she purred.

I swallowed hard. Even after all this time, she still made me feel like all this was new but yet so very, very familiar. Like warmth and love and home and … everything. If I was human, my heart would be racing. As it was, I was already aching for her.

"Hi, sexy," I said, my gaze turning heated as I made my way toward the bed and the woman who'd saved me in so many ways I couldn't count them. I eased myself down next to her and ran my hand through her hair. "I missed you."

For a moment, her own heated gaze took on a softness reserved only for me. It was my favorite look. "I missed you too."

She meant it. She always did, and she always made sure I knew.

"What's all this?" I asked, stroking her hair again. When my fingers reached the end of her silky strands, I trailed them down the soft skin of her back. She shivered.

"This is all Jasper," she responded. "He bought this place, I don't think specifically for us, but he wanted us to have some genuine time alone before …"

Before Storm moved in was what she didn't say. Rose had voted yes but I knew she still wasn't crazy about the idea. Jasper was the only person that knew that just as well as I did. I was proud of her anyway. I loved her no matter what, would have in spite of whatever she may or may not have done, but she had made so much progress and that made my heart swell.

Jasper and Rosie were close, sharing a special bond I didn't quite understand. It made sense that he'd want her to have this before Storm joined us. From the way he'd been acting the past several days, it was pretty obvious he wanted it for me too.

I grinned. "I like the sound of genuine alone time."

"Prove it and kiss me," she demanded with a wicked grin of her own. "Show me who's my Monkey Man."

I rolled us so that I was hovering over her, fisted one hand in her hair, ran the other down her back, ripping the offending lingerie to shreds as I did it, until I was roughly palming her ass. Right before I plunged my tongue into her sweet mouth, I growled, "You want your Monkey Man, I'll give you your Monkey Man. Be careful what you wish for Rose."

"When it comes to you," she gasped through our kiss, "never."

I smiled against her lips.

oOo

**Longing Chapter 24 Outtake #2**

_Two days before Bella returns from New York ..._

RPOV

Emmett and I were in our room lounging on our bed and basking in the sunshine filtering in through the window wall. We were both sparkling like the most beautiful, brilliant cut, colorless diamonds. We were better than the most beautiful diamonds, but I was generally of the opinion that we, particularly I, were better than most everything ... at least in regard to looks. As far as I was concerned, my Em was the hottest man that walked the Earth and I would fight a bitch to the death if she or he ever tried to claim otherwise.

I was curled around my mate, my legs tangled with his and one arm propped up on the mattress by my elbow. My chin was resting between his very well-developed and panty-drenching pecs, right in the center of his breastbone so I could look up at his handsome face as I ran the fingers of my free hand through his soft, dark, curly hair. I would never admit it out loud but I liked playing with Emmett's hair more than I liked fussing with my own. Besides, when you've got perfect hair you've got time to play with other people's, and whose was better to play with than Em's. His eyes were closed, a little grin curling his lips and a rumbling purr vibrating from his chest at my ministrations.

_Maybe if I tug at the curls at the nape of his neck the way _he _likes, he'll pull my hair the way _I _like, _I thought with a wicked grin. That purr of his was really getting to me.

I was just about to creep my hand around to the back of Emmett's head when Jasper knocked on the door.

I growled in frustration. I loved my "twin" like no other but goddamn it! He was a fucking empath! He knew what I was planning probably before I did and he was cock-blocking me!

_Asshole! _I would make him pay for this.

"Come on in, Jazz," Emmett called, so relaxed he sounded sleepy.

I grinned. I, Rosalie Lillian McCarty Hale, was responsible for that shit. If Jasper wasn't being intentionally obtuse or just plain mean, I would be making some far more animalistic sounds escape from that beautiful, talented mouth of my husband's.

My grin withered into a scowl, and I narrowed my eyes at my brother. _Jackass!_

"What do you want?" I demanded. I was getting more and more irritable with each day that passed. "Storm" was due to move in in a matter of days and I wasn't looking forward to living in the same house as that little bitch even if I had voted in favor of it. He looked at me sheepishly, obviously feeling my irritation.

"I've got a surprise for you, Rose."

My ears perked up and my scowl faded some. "A present kind of surprise or a shitty news kind of surprise?"

Jasper grinned but it was off. "The present kind."

My scowl faded completely but before I could reply, Emmett spoke up. "What did you get my woman, Jazz, and how much am I going to have to up my game when she sees it?"

Our brother shrugged and then looked to me, "You coming?" "

You just said you have a present for me," I answered.

"Of _course_, I'm coming."

Emmett lugged himself off the bed and followed us as Jasper led me toward the garage. When we got there, I noticed the far end, my normal workspace, had been cleared and several huge boxes were littering the open space.

I raised my brows at him. "What are those?"

He smiled mischievously. "Open them."

It took me hours to open those boxes and catalog everything in them. Jasper had clearly bought me all the parts to build a car from the ground up. It had been awhile since I'd built a car from scratch so I was incredibly excited. It wasn't until I opened the last box and was sorting through its contents that I realized what car these boxes contained.

"Holy shit!" I shrieked, jumping to my feet and racing into the house. When I found him, I stopped short.

"I take it you got to the last box?" he questioned. I nodded dumbly. "Do you like it?" He sounded a little apprehensive as he asked.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I yelled. "That's a 1937 Mercedes-Benz 540 K Spezial Roadster! It's one of the rarest cars in the world!"

"I know," he said.

"And one of the most expensive."

"I know that too."

"You broke it down into pieces," I accused. That was sacrilege of the highest fucking order. I should have murdered him for that.

Jasper shrugged again. "I was very careful. I knew you would enjoy building it back up more than just having it sitting there and looking pretty, and you'd build it better anyway."

I nodded, pleased. He did have a point.

"Do you like it?" he repeated, still sounding nervous.

"Jasper Whitlock, if I wasn't deeply in love and a happily married and mated woman, I'd strip you naked and fuck you seven ways from Sunday to thank you for that car!"

Jasper grimaced.

"Okay, maybe I'd find some _other_ way to thank you," I said, grimacing myself. "This totally makes up for you cock blocking me yesterday, by the way."

His gaze dropped from mine for a split second. "I've got a lot more than that to make up for," he mumbled under his breath.

I didn't think he meant to say it out loud so I chose not to comment, instead saying, "Thank you, Jasper."

My voice was heartfelt and I hoped he could feel it in my emotions. I wanted to hug him but I knew he wouldn't be comfortable with it. For a moment I had the urge to ask him what this present was for but decided against it. I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. If he wanted to tell me what this was for, he would. Maybe he'd done it just because. I couldn't say I cared that much. I was now the owner of a 1937 Mercedes-Benz 540 K Spezial Roadster. I had always wanted one and now I was getting to build it. God, I loved my brother! "

You're welcome."

"You really screwed me, Jazzman," Emmett grumbled sourly. "How the hell am I supposed to top this?"

"That's for you to figure out, bro," Jasper said. "It's not like you don't have the time to come up with something."

He gave me a weak smile, turned his back to me and exited the garage. I watched him go, still wishing I could hug him.

oOo

**A/N:** We got into Emmett's and Rosalie's heads a little this time. It was very fun to write from their perspectives. I hope you enjoyed them. :)

Take care until next time ...

Up next: As I said, Bella is back in Forks where she belongs. :)


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer, but her characters are fun to play with so I'm making them do my bidding for the foreseeable future. Jasper as the God of War and Peter 'just knowing shit' are ideas that belong to IDreamofEddy. I do own the plot and original characters of Longing though.

Thank you to my wonderful beta and friend, Laurie Whitlock and my beloved sister/beta/pre-reader, Shelljayz, who brings me great joy every day. The two of you rock and this story would not be the same without you and your guidance. I love you both to death. :)

Thank you so much to everyone who has followed, favorited, reviewed or just plain stopped by to read or visit. I love you all! :) I haven't been good at all about responding to reviews the past couple weeks and I'm so incredibly sorry for that. I just really haven't been feeling all that well. I'll try to do better this next week.

So now Bella is back in Forks ...

**Chapter 25**

oOo

_Friday, October 23rd, 2080_

JPOV

"Uh, uh," I argued. "There's no way. No way in hell."

Peter grinned at me, his emotions radiating humor and amusement but also obstinacy. We were in my study, my personal haven that almost no one was allowed to enter without my permission. The exceptions to this were Peter, Charlotte and Alice, but only because they knew when it was okay to enter without asking first and when I absolutely needed to be left alone. "Careful, Major," he cautioned. "Your geek is showin'."

"_My_ geek is showin'?" I sputtered incredulously. Peter smirked. _Fucker!_ "Maybe so, but at least _I_ have good taste!"

"How do I not have good taste?" he asked, looking baffled and wounded. It was a crock of shit, mostly. He was still a cocky bastard.

I rolled my eyes. "You've spent the last half hour arguin' the merits of the Tim Burton and Joel Schumacher Batman films over the Christopher Nolan trilogy. Two minutes of listenin' to that shit had me questioning your sanity, but half a fuckin' hour has me thinkin' you need to be committed. How could you possibly think that those cheesy ass movies can even touch the brilliance of Christopher Nolan?"

Peter's gaze narrowed but he was still amused. He reached for the closest thing to him, which happened to be my newest historical novel and chucked it at my head. I caught it before it hit me between the eyes. "I happen to like cheese, you dick! And they weren't cheesy for the time they were made!"

"Alright, fine," I said in begrudging agreement, "maybe I'm not cryin' over the four hours of my eternity I'll never get back after havin' watched the Keaton films but-"

"But," he parroted triumphantly, succeeding in mocking me and prompting me to continue simultaneously. If I didn't love the guy so damn much …

"Need I remind you of the disaster that was _Batman & Robin_?" I pointed out. My brother cringed at the mention of it, and it was my turn to smirk.

Peter recovered quickly as he was wont to do, and grinned at me. His emotions hadn't changed much, only now there was a hint of his usual mischievousness. "What Major? Didn't you like the close-ups of rubber asses and bat nipples?"

"No, Pete, I can't say I did," I returned with a smile, "but I do remember you disappearing into your room for an awful long time after you bought the VHS. So long, in fact, that you had Char and I worried."

His grin didn't falter. "What can I say? George Clooney was one fine hunk of man meat in his day. If I swung that way, I would have fucked him."

I grimaced. "I cannot even tell you on how many levels I find that disturbing, and I'm beginnin' to question what I ever could have seen in you that made me think puttin' up with your ass for eternity was a good idea."

Peter folded his arms behind his head and propped his feet up on my desk chair, which wasn't far enough out of his reach. I was going to have to burn it later. "My rugged good looks, of course."

I scoffed. "Oh yes," I fired back at him, my tone dripping with sarcasm, "that is _precisely_ why I turned you."

"Obviously," he agreed without missing a beat and then changed the subject. "Have you no respect for the man who brought us the _Terminator_?"

I was glad he'd switched topics as our conversation was getting uncomfortably close to one I didn't fuckin' wish to discuss. I was content right now bullshitting with my brother ... well, as content as I could be considering how off I continued to feel; especially since it had been sixteen days with no word from Paige when she had promised to be back in no more than fourteen. Maybe that meant she had just been blowing smoke up our asses when she'd told Carlisle she was going to move in. After our last confrontation, I couldn't say I was sad about the prospect of her having lied about it, though there was a little stab of disappointment at the thought that I refused to acknowledge beyond the initial irritation I'd felt when it had first hit me ... and I wasn't worried about her. I _wasn't_. I wasn't curious about where she had gone either.

"Just because he brought one kickass machine to life did not give Arnold Schwarzenegger license to bring a lame one into the world," I countered.

"Mr. Freeze is _not_ lame," Peter shouted, the semi-faux-offense returning to his voice and emotions. He looked scandalized when he said, "He's not even a machine ... and you call yourself a Batman fan!"

"He wears a mechanical suit to keep himself alive, douche," I said, folding my arms across my chest, "that makes him part machine, and he's not the best Batman villain but he's got potential. Thus, the lameness of his portrayal of the character in part ruined a potentially great movie."

Peter's smirk returned. "Come on, Major. They're just movies. _Why so serious?"_

He had been waiting for the entirety of our debate for the perfect time to use that line. If I knew my brother, the whole reason he'd even brought the subject up was so he could. I tossed my head back and laughed, and I wasn't the only one in the house that did, but not before picking up the useless paperweight I kept on the end table next to my leather armchair; only because it had been a gift from Esme, and taking my own shot at _his_ head. Peter caught it before it shattered against his forehead more _because_ it was a gift from Esme and not because of the mess it would have caused ... well that, and the loss of reflex prowess points that would have damaged his rep. Just because I had no use for Esme's gift didn't mean it wasn't important to me, and Peter knew that.

The sound of footsteps approaching my study door echoed down the hall, Carlisle's scent giving away that it was him. His knock and emotions were hesitant, and it made me wonder what he could possibly want. Carlisle was kind and patient but he didn't lack confidence, so it wasn't like him to show that trait.

"Come in," I called, hesitance absent. I would have reassured him that he had no need to feel uncertain of himself around me no matter what he wished to discuss, but I still wasn't able to project. I was beginning to feel like an emotionally constipated empath.

Carlisle peeked around the door, his expression matching his emotions, and I gestured for him to enter in what I hoped was a reassuring manner. He finally lost the uncertainty and made his way inside.

As he ventured further into the room, he met Peter's gaze. My brother and best friend stared at him with a calculating sheen to his eyes, his emotions colored with a suspicion and cunning I didn't understand. I had never seen Peter look at Carlisle like that nor had he ever felt that way in his presence. I would have to ask him about it later.

"I'll just leave the two of you to it," Peter said, standing and moseying from the room in that lazy manner he had perfected so many decades ago.

"What's on your mind, Carlisle?" I questioned curiously, but still wary.

He took Peter's seat on the couch across from me, resting his elbows on his knees. I really did want to know what he had to say. My respect for him had skyrocketed in the past weeks. I had always respected him, but he had surprised me with his strategies both in convincing most of us to be in favor of Paige living here and the Quileutes as well. Of course almost half the family hadn't been a hard sell but succeeding in getting Rosalie to vote yes was quite the accomplishment. Convincing the wolves hadn't been an easy feat either and he had done so brilliantly. To say I was impressed was an understatement.

Carlisle tried to look nonchalant but he couldn't hide his concern from an empath. He knew that I both hated and appreciated that shit, and those feelings tipped the scale in favor of one or the other. He was testing the waters to see which direction I was leaning at the moment, but I wouldn't know until he spilled whatever the hell had him in here treating me with kid gloves. Actually, that was pretty much the deciding factor and I was fuckin' irritated now.

"I just wanted to check in with you," he said, "see how you're doing."

Suddenly all of this made sense to me. I had been expecting this conversation for weeks now but that didn't make me any less peeved.

"I'm not goin' to hurt her, Carlisle," I said through gritted teeth.

I'd had my doubts about it but Peter had assured me I wouldn't. It had taken some persuading on his and Charlotte's parts to make me a believer since Paige was so damn annoying, but, in the end, I had caved. I _always_ caved because even though he was a mischievous asshole, I trusted Peter and his gift implicitly. Maybe it was malfunctioning some lately but that didn't make the things he did just _know_ any less accurate. He had never led me astray before and he never would. If there was anything _I_ just knew, it was that.

"I never thought you would," Carlisle assured me and he wasn't lying. I could feel it.

"Then why are we havin' this conversation?" I asked with a frown, my more prevalent exasperation overshadowing my confusion.

Carlisle smiled at me. "You seemed a little off kilter the other day, and I know Storm moving in isn't something you want-"

_It's Paige,_ I corrected silently. I didn't know why it fuckin' bugged me that everyone kept calling her by a name that wasn't hers but it did. Even though it bugged me, I still wouldn't verbally correct them. Not without her permission. Plus, I didn't want to get into how I knew what her supposed name was.

"-I meant to speak with you about this before, but things have kept coming up," Carlisle continued. "I was disappointed when you voted no. You must have felt that," he paused, waiting for me to acknowledge whether or not I had. When I nodded, he carried on, "You know I wasn't disappointed in _you_, right?"

Carlisle never had been disappointed in me. Not when he found out about how I had come into this life, not when he found out about my time in the Southern Wars, not when he found out that I was the famed Major, the fiendishly legendary God of War, and _never_ when I fucked up and drained a human dry.

Every year around the anniversary of the last time I had been overwhelmed by my bloodlust and taken a human life; which had been nearly fifty-one years ago, he took me on a two week long hunting trip. We had never gone to the same place twice to do the actual celebrating but they always had two things in common: they were teeming with top-notch prey, the filet mignon of animal blood, and they were always by some body of water. Carlisle may not have known that the sound of currents rushing passed me as I gazed up at the stars or the clouds were two of the only things in this world that brought me peace and clarity, but he was observant enough to notice that I always seemed to be more clear-headed when I was around some form of water.

We had developed a ritual over the years. We would go for a light hunt in Forks before we headed wherever it was we'd picked to go. Then Carlisle and I would hit up the town nearest to our chosen hunting spot and patronize the local bar from open to close for three nights. We would sit there in the thick of the drunk humans and I would soak every last ounce of those hazy emotions up, sharing a mild buzz with Carlisle but mostly storing them and compounding them and multiplying them. Then we would head to our feeding grounds, I would let those emotions loose and Carlisle and I would go drunken carnivore hunting, stumbling around like idiots, wrestling sloppily with our prey, and getting more on us than in us.

Once our thirst was sated, which was always by the actual anniversary, we'd park our asses on the beach and carefully build a bonfire. I would dial the drunkenness back from shitfaced to just this side of too much. A drunken Carlisle was fuckin' hilarious and it reminded me that even though he was centuries older than I was, he was still really only twenty-three. As responsible as he was, he could let loose with the best of them, and I wasn't sure if that was a side of himself he had shown to Edward or Emmett. The thought made me feel special.

During those trips Carlisle never said that he was proud of me. A lot of people needed to hear words to confirm that kind of shit but I wasn't one of them. Actually, I just didn't fuckin' like it and he knew that, so he always abided that unspoken rule. He didn't need to say it though. His pride in me and my accomplishments radiated out of him like a beacon, a lighthouse to a ship in a storm. So we sat there, drunk, shooting the shit for days, and I basked in the glow of it and his pride and love for the whole of that time until we packed up to hunt again before we headed home.

The buzz always wore off after five days if I was really trying to retain it. Because the emotions produced by alcohol weren't entirely natural, I couldn't produce them continually unless I was constantly in the presence of a drunk or high person. After the buzz dissipated, Carlisle and I would hunt like civilized vampires in our chosen place before we went back to the family.

"Yes," I confirmed, and he let out a relieved breath at the knowledge that I still understood his faith in me.

"I just want you to know that you can come to me if you find yourself," Carlisle paused, looking for the right word, "frustrated."

I wanted to snort. Frustrated did not even begin to fuckin' cover what Paige made me feel but he didn't need to know that. Even so, I was still going to try to curb that frustration for the sake of everyone else in the house. My anger at her from weeks ago had dissipated but I had come to some conclusions about her stay here, if she indeed came back.

"I'll be polite, Carlisle," I promised, "_but_," I paused for effect, "I won't stand idly by when she runs that mouth of hers and she will. You're," I said, and then corrected myself, "_we're_ showin' her a great kindness by allowing her to live here, and I will not fuckin' tolerate disrespect, especially not to you or Esme."

I generally did my best not to curse around the two of them. We all did. Esme and Carlisle weren't much for that kind of language, though they did let a curse slip on occasion, but neither one of them ever corrected or yelled at us when we did. Even though they often acted as our parental figures, they knew we weren't children, that we had a right to speak however we wanted as long as we didn't curse at them. They were also the first to admit that our houses weren't just "theirs." We all chipped in whenever we bought a new place, so they couldn't pull that parent "as long as you live under my roof, you will follow my rules!" bullshit. They left us alone and didn't complain about it. That was why we tried so hard to keep our tongues in check in their presence but, despite my traditional Southern upbringing, I tended to curse more when I was pissed off or agitated.

Carlisle's emotions were touched as I said this because even though he couldn't feel it, he knew I meant it. "Go easy on her, Jasper. She's had it pretty rough."

"Everyone's had it rough at one point or another," I pointed out. "_Life_ is rough. That doesn't make it okay for her to mouth off to people who don't deserve it, and I won't coddle her just because mommy and daddy didn't love her enough."

"Jasper!" Carlisle admonished sharply.

I shrugged. It was a nonchalant gesture but I wasn't sure what else I could do to make him understand that I hadn't meant that in a disrespectful way. "I'm not bein' callous or vindictive. I'm bein' honest. It's not an excuse and you know it."

He sighed sadly. "You're right," he admitted, "but she's really not as bad as you think."

I met Carlisle's gaze evenly. "It's not that I think she's bad. She's a survivor, and I both admire and respect her for that. She _should_ be respected for that. I just think she shouldn't make it her life's mission to piss people off."

_To piss_ me _off._

Carlisle's gaze was just as even. "Have you never been so lost and angry that you wanted nothing more than to make those around you feel just the same as you?"

_Well, shit!_ I thought with a frown.

Carlisle had a point. I _had_ been lost and angry for a long time. I still was and I couldn't blame Paige if that's how she felt too. Maybe I would have realized this if my gift wasn't so fuckin' useless around her and if her face and body language weren't so damn hard to read most of the time. Then again, I was 236 years old. I should have had some fuckin' idea anyway but I'd been too stuck in my own head lately.

As I sat there, I really thought about her and the little time we had spent together. I remembered it all in vivid detail, more detail than I cared to for the most part. I tried to look at it all differently, to separate the confusion, irritation, and other emotions she evoked from the facts.

There was a lot about Paige I didn't know: where she came from, who her parents were, why she was in the situation she was in, what exactly that situation was, or if Paige Donnelly was her real name. But there _were_ things about her that I _did_ know for certain. She had monumental trust issues that made her uncomfortable with the idea of letting anyone in and didn't take kindly to what she perceived as condescension and pity. She had a sense of pride that made it hard for her to accept help. She was tough and guarded, quick-witted with a sense of humor. She didn't take shit from anyone and wasn't shy in letting people know it. She was stubborn and hardheaded but rational and acutely aware not only of her surroundings but of the people in them. She rolled with the punches better than most of the people and vampires I had met in my long life, and she watched her back with a vigilance that was rare in someone her age, rare in someone of _any_ age. She wasn't afraid of hard work and threw herself into whatever task was presented to her, wanting to do her best no matter if it wasn't necessarily pleasant. That had been easy to see from watching her in the bar. She cared about people, doing her best to help them even if they were awful to her as evidenced by the way she had handled things when she'd thought Harpy Bitch had been drugged. I remembered the way she had looked at me, like she knew me better than anyone else ever had, including Peter, who knew me best; how she had taken the time to really see me when she had no reason to bother or care. She was smart and resourceful, thought on her feet like it was second nature. She did what had to be done but because she cared, I had a hard time believing anyone got hurt when she did those things. She was a survivor, but, more than that, she seemed like a genuinely good person, which was more than could be said for me when I was in a place similar to hers.

When I thought about all of this, I realized we had a lot in common, more than I was comfortable with. Yes, she was damn good at pushing my buttons, annoyed me easily, and affected me more than anyone had in a long time but she challenged me too, and I couldn't say I didn't like that ... on occasion. I also couldn't deny that there were times I wanted to kill her and times when I just plain wanted her. I still didn't like that one fuckin' bit and living with her would be difficult. It would try my patience in ways it probably never had been but there was nothing I could do to change things. Her being here had already been decided and Charlotte and I had been outnumbered seven to two.

I had to try to be civil. I had to _try_ to like her just as I had concluded two weeks ago when she showed up at our door acting like something had crawled up her ass and died. After our time in Louisville, I figured she would grow on me eventually. I _did_ no longer hate her after all and my anger with her had melted away more quickly than I'd expected it to. I really did respect her for all of the things I knew for certain about her, and I couldn't judge her for the things I didn't. I couldn't be that hypocritical.

My silence gave Carlisle all the answer he needed but he didn't rub my initial hypocrisy in my face. Sometimes, Carlisle was so patient and good and wise I wanted to rip his face off.

"Like I said," I told him, my tone not as unyielding as it had been before and also lacking the bite, "I'll be polite to her and I'll do my best to be understanding, but I am still not goin' to allow her to disrespect you."

Carlisle grinned at me, his happiness and relief seeping into my skin. "That's all I can ask."

I returned his smile tentatively, not entirely comfortable with or even sure of what exactly I was getting myself into.

Carlisle had been about to impart yet another sage piece of wisdom that would undoubtedly have left me wanting to claw his fuckin' eyes out but before he could, his cell phone rang.

He pulled it from his blazer pocket, answering with a warm, "Hello."

_"Hey, Doc,"_ Paige's voice sounded on the other end of the line.

_Goddamn it!_

The sound of her voice still did things to me that I was not fuckin' okay with. It would have been different if the last time I ever saw her was in Louisville and she remained strictly as a permanent memory in my eternal spank bank, but she was going to be here all the fuckin' time, a living, breathing reminder of the mind-fuck that was that early September morning in our alcove behind 'The Finish Line'.

_Fuck!_

I never would have touched her if I had known she would end up living with us. This was going to be a hell of a lot harder than I thought it was going to be.

_So much for getting her out of your fuckin' system._

"Storm!" Carlisle exclaimed, his relief so overwhelming I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Too bad it didn't lift the weight off my chest, but I was almost used to it now ... _almost_. "It's been sixteen days. I was starting to worry."

I could practically _hear_ Paige rolling her eyes. _"Don't lie, Doc. You were worried the second I walked out your door."_

Paige was right. Carlisle _had_ been worried the second she'd walked out our door. As far as I could tell, he was irrationally concerned for the girl. He didn't know her well enough to elicit that kind of concern and if he knew her the way I did, he certainly wouldn't be so fuckin' apprehensive. Paige wasn't some shrinking violet. She could handle herself pretty damn well. Hell, she'd taken me, _me_, by surprise and pinned me to a fuckin' wall. I'd expected that to piss me off after my head had cleared from our little encounter. Instead, nothing had changed and all that shit did was make my dick hard.

_Do_ not _go there, Jasper,_ I snapped at myself. Paige was off limits, and even if that weren't the case, she bugged me too fuckin' much.

"That's true," Carlisle admitted.

She snorted. _"You are too honest for your own good, Dr. Cullen."_

"I heard it was a virtue or something," he quipped and she chuckled. I liked the sound of it. I liked the sound of it way too damn much.

_Fuck!_

"Are you back in Forks?" He asked, his excitement and hopefulness taking over the room like he'd detonated a flash grenade.

_"Um, no,"_ Paige said. _"I'm in Port Angeles at the sh-crap, motel."_

"Forks has a shit motel, you know," Carlisle pointed out, knowing the word she had meant to say and playing around with her a little. He may have been so good and kind and patient that it, on occasion, made me want to commit horrific acts of violence out of sheer fuckin' frustration, but the guy wasn't lacking for humor, and a cursing Carlisle was always, always hilarious. I would have laughed if he'd been talking to anyone but her. I was too preoccupied to laugh when it was her.

_"It does,"_ she said. If she'd been surprised by Carlisle's cursing, she was hiding it well. She sounded playful and sarcastic when she said,_ "but that one is clean and, dare I say it, quaint, while this one has faux-silk, porn star sheets and magic fingers. Honestly, Dr. Cullen, it was a no brainer."_

_Faux-silk porn star sheets and magic fingers? Seriously? She's_ still_ torturin' me without even tryin'. Shit!_

"You are absolutely right, Storm," Carlisle conceded easily. "That was a no brainer."

_"Bella,"_ she said quietly, _"my name is Bella."_

"Bella," Carlisle repeated, a little smile stretching his lips. "I like it," he concluded, "it suits you."

_Yes, it does,_ I agreed. In all the time I had known her, all the names I'd known her by just hadn't fit. 'Bella' was perfect. I just wondered if it was real.

_"Thanks?"_

"You're welcome," Carlisle answered, ignoring her uncertainty.

_"Sooo,"_ Bella continued, _"is your offer to help me move still open?"_

"Of course," he responded immediately.

_"Good,"_ she replied. _"When I turned you down I hadn't taken into account the supplies I was going to need."_

"Supplies?" Carlisle mused aloud, seemingly before he could stop himself. His curiosity was so strong it had my whole body feeling like it was just coming awake after I'd lost circulation. He lived to solve puzzles, it was one of the reasons he was such a damn good doctor, and Bella was like one of those packages that came with several of them.

_"Now, now, Doc,"_ Bella chided, _"don't make me reach through this phone and smack your hand with a ruler."_

Carlisle chuckled. "I wouldn't want to make you go to all that trouble because of my errant, but goalless, curiosity."

_"It's no trouble,"_ she replied cheerily.

"How much stuff do you have, Bella?" he asked. Then he quickly elaborated, "So I'll know which vehicle to use."

_"I've got a duffle bag, a large steamer trunk, and four boxes,"_ Bella told him. _"Two large and two medium."_

"We can take my Suburban," Peter said from the door of my study.

I had been so fuckin' absorbed in Carlisle's conversation with Bella that I hadn't heard my brother approach. Sure, Peter was a sneaky fucker, stealth being one of his greatest talents, but I still should have felt him coming in many ways despite his lack of scent: through my gift, my senses, my instincts, and just from how well I knew _him_. That was going to have to change. Bella's presence here couldn't compromise how well I could protect my family and myself.

"Do you mind if I bring Peter along?" Carlisle inquired.

_"Eh,"_ Bella said, and I could picture her noncommittal shrug, _"no skin off my nose."_

Esme appeared at the door next. "It's five. Ask if she's eaten dinner, dear."

"Have you eaten dinner, Bella?"

_"No, sir."_

"Esme will no doubt have something ready for you by the time we get home," Carlisle told her.

_"Is she making dinner for everyone?"_ she asked.

"We've already eaten," he responded.

This was him sparing us from having to consume human food. The rules we'd be operating under while Bella lived with us were almost identical to the ones we had established when she'd been here before. Now, however, we would be doing just about anything we could to avoid eating with her without being obvious about it. Knowing how observant she was, she'd notice whether we were subtle about it or not. This was why we would be restricted to short hunts during daylight hours that could be passed off as running errands and whatnot during the weekdays and extended hunts on the weekends with the excuse of visiting Carlisle's family, i.e., the Denali coven, who lived not far away, far being a relative term.

_"Oh, it's not necessary for her to make something just for me,"_ she protested. _"I can make my own dinner."_

Carlisle laughed. "You don't know my wife, Bella. The likelihood of me convincing her not to make you food is about as high as the possibility of it raining spaghetti. Peter and I are leaving right now. We'll see you shortly."

_"Alright, Doc,"_ Bella said. _"I'm in room number four."_

My whole fuckin' world was about to change and, if the time I had already spent with Bella was any indication, implode.

oOo

BPOV

It was 11:07 pm and I was in the guest room I had stayed in two and a half months ago. It was now my room and it hadn't changed in the least. The walls were still a light blue, the carpet was still stark white, and the artwork was still all beautiful, dreamy pastels with occasional splashes of bold color. The bed was still framed in naturally-finished oak with a headboard to match, the sheets were still lilac and soft, the comforter was still plush and white with several over-stuffed pillows piled on top of it, the fireplace still regal, and the mattress was still the most comfortable mattress I had ever had the pleasure of resting on. I actually didn't think there was one piece of furniture in the Cullen house that didn't bring a person close to nirvana while sitting or lying on it.

Mrs. Cullen had emphatically insisted that I make the room my own, telling me that I could paint it whatever color I wanted, get new furniture and bedding, even a new bed if that would make me feel more at home. I wondered what she would say if I told her that in order for it to feel like home the walls would have to be stripped down to the gray of their sheetrock and left bare of any decoration, the bed downsized to a twin and covered with scratchy, cotton sheets, the dimensions downsized by roughly 60%, the bed frame and the rest of the furniture swapped out for sturdy metal bolted to concrete floors, and with all warmth completely sucked out of the room. I sighed. That didn't matter.

I had every intention of making use of that fuckawesome bed in a couple of hours. Alice had insisted that I go shopping with her and everyone else the next day. She still had the puppy dog face in her arsenal and her enthusiasm over the prospect of shopping was truly scary, so I was going to have to sleep some if I was going to survive the experience. She hadn't really given me a choice in the matter and I couldn't argue. I needed clothes and shoes appropriate for school (the clothes I had now were only wearable in a barn or a bar), a desk and chair, and some other things. I couldn't sleep just yet though. I had some things to do first.

I went to the boxes Dr. Cullen and Peter had so carefully carted up the stairs for me, opening them and unpacking their contents and taking inventory of it all as I meticulously removed the packaging. When I was done, the floor of the bedroom was strewn with neat piles of computer components and peripherals (think all the extra things like monitors and cables). I needed a hardcore computer as well as other equipment for my Jane investigation, and for how I intended to go about said investigation, there wasn't a pre-made computer out there with specifications that would meet my needs or be to my liking and standards. As for the rest of the necessary equipment, it was specialty and I couldn't buy it without the purchases being logged, and I wasn't about to steal any of it. I had committed enough felonies lately. Therefore, I was going to have to build my own, which was also why there was a separate pile that held all the necessary tools to accomplish this. Procuring the required parts, all of which were top of the line, was what had pushed me two days passed the two week timeline I had given Dr. Cullen for my return.

I had purchased all $40,000 of the parts myself and had checked them beforehand but I still felt the need to inspect them a second time for any damage or visible design flaws I may have missed. From what I could tell, it was all in good working order so when I built my computer and everything else, which I intended to begin the next day, everything should go smoothly.

What I was doing now was equally important but in a different way. I had a theory about something and I was going to test it. It was _necessary_ to test it.

In order to become Bella Crawfield, I'd had to hack into the computer system of the hospital I had chosen to be "born" at, insert a record of my "birth" to Catherine and William Crawfield, who had died in a car crash when Bella Crawfield, _I_ (she was me now), was ten, and then insert random snippets in strategic places to prove my existence without having to go into excessive detail. It was generic, unimaginative life stuff, milestones that would be recorded in this or that public record. I had created a tentative existence for my fictional parents and myself, vague but filled out enough not to draw suspicion if anyone dug into things, but, as always, one of the keys to an airtight alias hinged on fingerprints. As I'd mentioned, if I shed a set and came up with a new one on my own, there was always that minute curve that gave away that they originated from me but the fingerprints I took from other people lacked that curve, matching flawlessly.

I was hypothesizing that I could create a set without that telling curve if I made a model and practiced adopting that model until they lost that curve and achieved the same perfection that my borrowed ones possessed. It wasn't a hypothesis that was rooted in science so much as naive hope. I was pretty sure that what enabled the borrowed fingerprints to be so perfect was a genetic trigger. When I touched a person's hand, I suspected there was some DNA transfer that enabled me to replicate their fingerprints when I made the decision that initiated it. If that was the case, my efforts would be fruitless, but I was willing to give it a shot. If I again ended up in a situation where I couldn't avoid getting arrested, I wanted to be able to minimize the risk.

In order to test this theory, I had to have several things. Some of those things were very simple, like paper and a run of the mill ink pad used for rubber stamping. The others were a bit more complicated. I'd had to design an original set of fingerprints, sans the telltale marker that pegged me as Soldier Omega, using computer software, and then use a 3D printer to carve out a base model of the print for each finger. After that was complete, I'd shaved the model down until it was a millimeter thick. Then I had taken foam latex, the kind make-up artists used to make prosthetics for movies, poured dabs of it into the mold and let it set. Once I had removed the prosthetic from the mold, I took a penknife and split them into three separate, usable applications - I had to have several sets in case my hypothesis ended up being bullshit. It was intricate and time-consuming and a total pain in my ass. The chemistry involved in making the correct oil that would be secreted by one's fingertips during the actual fingerprinting process was an even bigger one. I planned to carry both with me at all times though I had yet to figure out how I would apply them in a jiff. I would come up with something though. I always did.

Using the sticky substance my fingertips secreted as the application medium, I stuck a set of the prosthetics on, touched them to the ink pad, and neatly pressed them to the fresh sheet of paper in front of me. Then I removed the foam latex pieces and began the tedious process of duplicating them exactly by morphing my fingerprints from my current set to the new one. Then I rolled my freshly minted fingertips over the ink pad and repeated the process on the paper, checking for the flaw.

As I worked, continually suffering the searing burn that always accompanied the tweaking of my prints, I couldn't keep my mind from drifting back to the evening I had spent with the Cullens …

_-Flashback-_

_I only had to wait forty minutes for Dr. Cullen and Peter to show up at my motel room. When I opened the door at their knock, Dr. Cullen smiled at me, his arms twitching at his sides as though he wanted to hug me but knew better. Peter smiled too but it wasn't the same kind of smile as Carlisle's. It was the kind of smile I would give someone if I was trying to figure them out and gave a shit what they thought while I was doing it. In Peter's case, I was pretty sure he was only smiling because he was Mr. Perma-smirk. He was another tough one to read and I would be watching my back around him particularly close but, for the moment, he was helping me. He had offered up his own vehicle to help me move my things so I was going to be nice until he gave me a reason not to be._

_"Hello, Bella," Dr. Cullen greeted._

_"Hello, Dr. Cullen," I greeted in return, giving him a little smile, and then turning toward my other visitor and nodding. "Peter."_

_Peter smiled at me, and I felt myself smiling back before I moved aside to let them in. "Bella," he acknowledged. "It's nice to know the 'pretty little lady's' name, and it certainly fits."_

_I levelled him with a calculating gaze after I closed the door. "I would ask if your girlfriend knows what a flirty douche you are, but I already gathered that she does from my last visit so I guess you must have _some_ redeeming qualities."_

_Okay, so that technically broke my 'no disrespect' clause but only a little. So Peter was a little flirty. I didn't actually think he was a douche, _yet_, but you could tell a lot about a person from how they reacted to being goaded, and he was one of the only Cullens I hadn't had a good chance to observe. I was curious._

Eyes wide open, Bella.

_Peter's smile took on a goofy, love-sick sort of quality, full of earnestness and adoration, at the mention of Charlotte, but he quickly regained his smirk. "My Char knows who my heart and, consequently, my dick belong to."_

_"George Clooney?" Dr. Cullen asked innocently but with eyes full of mischief._

_I was not going to touch that._

_Peter scowled, though his eyes remained good-humored, and he rounded on Carlisle. "Shut it, Doc," he commanded, playfully shoving the older man's shoulder before turning back to me. His face and voice lacked pretense when he spoke again, "And yes, I do have a few redeeming qualities."_

_"He does," Dr. Cullen agreed._

_"Noted." Taking in all of that, I came to the preliminary conclusion that Peter was genuine and decent but hard to rattle. That was good. "So," I gestured to my stuff, which I had stacked neatly and compactly next to the bed, "let's get out of here before the motel manager comes scrounging around for more cash, huh?"_

_"There's no rush if you need more time," Dr. Cullen told me. "I can pay for an extra day."_

_I rolled my eyes. "I've got the money to pay for an extra day but the dude's skeezy as hell, and I am not in the mood to be leered at while he tries to swindle me."_

_That's right. This shit motel may have been better than the one in Louisville but the landlords that ran both of them were cut from the same cloth._

_Peter scowled again and I swear I heard a sort of rumbling that could have been a growl. "Do I need to break some shit … like a limb or two of this manager's? Maybe rearrange his face?"_

_I rolled my eyes again but felt oddly touched. "Nah, let's just go," I said. If I wanted to break the asshole's limbs, I would have done it before I left for New York. Hell, if I had a nickel if I broke the bones of every asshole I came across, I'd have a hell of a lot more than $500,000 tucked away. I gestured toward the steamer trunk. "All three of us are gonna have to cart that thing to your car. It's heavy."_

_Dr. Cullen just smiled. "We can handle it, Bella."_

_I shrugged doubtfully. The steamer trunk doubled as a safe that held my weapons and some of the other things I had to have with me but couldn't leave lying around in the event that one or more of the Cullens decided to snoop. I didn't think any of them would, they didn't really have any reason to, but a girl couldn't be too cautious. What it did not contain was the hard copy of the file on Jane Doe's murder case or the physical evidence I had stolen from the Louisville PD evidence locker, all of which I now knew by heart. Those things resided in a storage unit I had rented here in Port Angeles. While the safe I had built was sound, it seemed stupid to keep that stuff in a residential home. Said safe had a double biometric lock that required both fingerprint and retina scans to deactivate, and I had pre-recorded several sets of prints and retina duplicates to cycle through at different intervals and in different combinations. Since I was the one who had written the program that activated the locking mechanism and had an eidetic memory, I would always know which combination would open it. I wished anyone else that tried to bypass that lock the best of luck._

_The safe itself was made of a tungsten alloy. Tungsten was a heavy metal and one of the strongest as well, which is why I had chosen it, but the sheets I had used to make the safe part of the steamer trunk weren't nearly as thick as those generally used for a quality safe made of a different material. The strength of the metal itself didn't require the extra thickness which cut down on the weight significantly, to the point where it wasn't heavy enough to give away that there was much more to it than meets the eye, but it still weighed a little too fucking much for two guys to handle on their own. I wasn't going to say that though. Some men had delicate egos. Both Dr. Cullen and Peter didn't strike me as insecure men but you never know._

_"Well then, have at it," I invited them casually._

_"Goddamn, darlin'," Peter complained when he and Dr. Cullen picked up the trunk, "what did you cram in here? Russia?"_

_"Just my life," I answered flippantly, _and some of the keys to finding someone else's, _I added silently._

_By the time Peter's Suburban was loaded with all my stuff, it had been fifty-three minutes in total from the time I had hung up with Dr. Cullen while he was still in Forks._  
_After we all settled in the car, he spoke, "I'm going to let you bask in the peace and quiet on the drive home. You won't be getting much after you're all moved in." His voice held a playful warning but from my knowledge of his children and wife, I knew this was true. "Oh," he added, "I would prepare myself if I were you. Emmett has been plotting ways to officially welcome you to the family since you agreed to move in. If you had done it right away things might not have been so bad but you gave the boy sixteen days to mull it over. Be wary," Dr. Cullen said. "Be very wary and watch your back."_

_"I always do."_

oOo

_After enthusiastic hellos from Emmett and Alice, an enthusiastic greeting from Mrs. Cullen that was laced with anxiety no doubt due to my behavior from the last time I was here, and a genial welcome from Edward, I carried my duffel bag up to my room. The rest of the Cullens, save an MIA Rosalie, Charlotte and Jasper, insisted on taking care of the remainder of my things._

_It turned out that Emmett's grand idea to welcome me was an innocuous X-Men movie marathon. He cornered me as I sat on a barstool at the kitchen counter, eating the fabulous hot pastrami sandwich Mrs. Cullen had made me for dinner and badgered me until I agreed. It didn't take much convincing. As long as it wasn't a sappy romance and I didn't end up sitting next to Jasper, watching an action movie was harmless, and I would not be sitting next to Jasper. No fucking way. Thankfully, I managed to snag an armchair._

_"You don't have any popcorn, do you?" I asked. We were halfway through _X-Men: First Class,_ and I was hungry again._

_Emmett grinned, pausing the movie, shooting up from his seat next to Rosalie on the long couch and angling himself so that he was facing me. "We have popcorn, Red Vines, and peanut butter M&Ms."_

_My stomach growled loudly at the mention of all that sugary goodness and most of the people in the room laughed. Rosalie was unamused. Charlotte's and Peter's reactions remained a mystery because they were sitting next to Jasper, and I did not care what he thought of my rumbling stomach; therefore, their reactions were just as negligible._

_Fifteen minutes later, a piece of popcorn hit Edward, who was sitting in the armchair next to mine with Alice in his lap, squarely between the eyes. I snickered at this, watching as his gaze snapped to the culprit. The guilty party was Jasper._

_"You did _not_ just do that," Edward said incredulously._

_"Yes, sir, I believe I did," he drawled, a slow grin stretching across his face. Jasper was always hard for me to read but right then it was easy. That haunted quality and the sadness were still there but there was mischief and playfulness in his eyes too. Happiness even. It tugged at my heart._

_I groaned internally. _Why do you have to be so fucking_ pretty_?

_But he wasn't pretty. He was so, _so_ much more than that, but he was still an asshole and every time I looked at him I wanted to stab him in the fucking neck. The only reason I hadn't confronted him was because if I even opened my mouth to discuss what had happened between us, I would stab him. Also, if I talked about that, I might give Dr. Cullen enough clues for him to piece together too much of what had happened before he'd come across me in Wildfire's stall, and that was not a fucking option._

_Alice slid off of Edward's lap and he rose to his feet, a smirk twisting his lips. He grabbed a handful of popcorn. "You're going to regret that, Jazz."_

_I snorted. _What the hell kind of nickname is Jazz?

_"Unlikely, brother," Jasper responded, palming his own handful of popcorn._

_The next thing I knew, we had all split off into groups, teams, I guess: Emmett, Alice and I made up one, Dr. and Mrs. Cullen, Edward and Rosalie made up another, and Jasper, Peter and Charlotte made up the last._

_"That is _not_ fair!" Emmett protested at seeing the latter three group up. "You guys have been doing shit like this since you were … kids."_

_"Get over it, Em," Charlotte chirped, "and bring it."_

_After that it was on. It wasn't a skirmish, it wasn't a fight, it wasn't even a battle. It was a full-on popcorn war that was soon joined by Red Vine and M&M projectile missiles. By the time it was over, all the food was everywhere and no longer edible, and no one could claim victory but, my God, had it ever been fun._

_Was this what normal felt like?_

_-End Flashback-_

Looking back on those things, it was what I had observed of Jasper that stood out the most. I hadn't been able to keep my eyes from straying to him constantly. Did that bug me? Fuck. Yes. But I couldn't seem to help it. What I had seen of him tonight confused the hell out of me. I remembered everything about our time together very clearly. I had a fucking photographic memory for God's sake so that was understandable, but I was having a hard time reconciling the Jasper I had witnessed hours ago and the Jasper of Louisville. I had seen smug Jasper, cocky Jasper, indifferent Jasper, intense Jasper, furious Jasper, amused Jasper, unreadable Jasper, horny Jasper, but never playful Jasper. Though I had never given it any conscious thought, I supposed I had just assumed that he wasn't capable of it. Then again, I didn't really know him but I did know all the important things, like that he was a back-stabbing asshole.

That knowledge still didn't cure me of my confusion though and I wondered, only briefly, if maybe I had made a mistake. Was a boy so devoted to his family and who could be so silly and playful really capable of something as callous as turning me in when it was entirely likely I'd end up in prison for a good long while or worse? But then everything that had happened in Louisville washed over me like a tidal wave, the fear and uncertainty rearing its ugly head for a moment, and my anger returned with a vengeance. In its wake, I could no longer entertain such thoughts. I had things to do. I didn't need distractions.

oOo

By 2:00 am I was frustrated. I had been practicing this shit for two hours and had made no headway.

"My life would be so much easier if I didn't have fingerprints at all," I lamented. Though in this situation, the lack of them wouldn't be any help. What _would_ help would be if no one had them. Then I wouldn't have to think about shit like this.

The searing burn of the shift shot through my fingertips without my permission, and my gaze snapped down to them in surprise. My eyes widened in disbelief. I had no fucking fingerprints! That's right, my fingertips were smooth as a goddamned baby's ass.

"Son of a bitch! Seriously?!"

oOo

**A/N:** Okey dokey, Bella's all moved in and she got to talk to Peter a little bit! Jasper is still struggling with his God of War issues but he's making progress on the Bella front, and Bella's questioning her convictions.

The last couple chapters were a bit angsty, so I wanted to do a chapter that was lighter and more fun. I also wanted to show a lighter side to the Jasper/Peter dynamic since it's basically been all drama so far. I hope I did a good job with that.

I have a special place in my heart for superheroes and I love Batman. I don't actually have anything against any of the movies, though _The Dark Knight_ trilogy is my favorite (Heath Ledger as the Joker, 'nuff said) and I have a special bond over those particular Batman films with my friend David, so it's a tribute of sorts to that bond.

Up next: Bella continues to settle in to life in Forks ...


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer, but her characters are fun to play with so I'm making them do my bidding for the foreseeable future. Jasper as the God of War and Peter 'just knowing shit' are ideas that belong to IDreamofEddy. I do own the plot and original characters of Longing though.

Thank you to my wonderful beta and friend, Laurie Whitlock and my beloved sister/beta/pre-reader, Shelljayz, who brings me great joy every day. The two of you rock and this story would not be the same without you and your guidance. I love you both to death. :)

Thank you so much to everyone who has followed, favorited, reviewed or just plain stopped by to read or visit. I love you all! :)

I felt this was necessary ...

oOo

**Longing Chapter 25 Outtake**

"Mrs. Cullen?" Bella's soft voice sounded from behind Esme.

She was in the kitchen tossing away the remnants of the food fight from the living room. The others had helped with the clean up, they were always good about that, but Esme liked to clean, so she had dismissed the rest of the family, all of whom had retired to their rooms. Cleaning helped to clear her head and she very much needed that. She also needed the distraction. She had wanted so very badly for Bella to join the family that she'd ached for it but now that she was here, Esme wasn't sure quite how to act. The events of Bella's last visit continued to weigh heavily on her and she didn't know how to move passed it. She had felt before that she could do nothing right with her and it was difficult to shake that notion.

"Hello, Bella," Esme greeted with a warm smile. "That really is a very lovely name."

The smile Bella gave her in return was shy if Esme wasn't mistaken. "Um, thank you."

"What can I do for you?" Esme asked nervously.

"I was hoping we might talk," Bella said.

"Of course," she agreed genially, though she was a bit hesitant. She was still afraid she would say the wrong thing.

Esme directed Bella toward Carlisle's study and she followed without comment much as she had all those months ago. When they entered she once again took a seat in one of the wingback chairs. Instead of sitting on the couch as she had the previous visit, Esme sat in the other wingback chair in the hope that things would go better due to the change. It was a silly hope, a naive one, but she was willing to take a chance on it.

"So," Bella began a bit awkwardly, "I think it's a good idea if we talk about the first time I was here."

Esme's nerves amplified and it must have shown on her face.

Bella sighed. "I'm not sorry for how I reacted when you threatened me with Child Protective Services, but I _am_ sorry for how I treated you when you offered me the clothes. I know I already said that in the note I sent, but I thought you should hear it directly from me," she said. "You were being kind and you didn't deserve for me to blow up at you. I was in a bad headspace at the time. It's not an excuse but it _is_ an explanation."

"I appreciate your apology but it really isn't necessary, dear," Esme told her.

"It is actually," Bella said. "I've noticed that you've been hesitant around me, and the only thing I can think is that you're afraid of offending me and how I might treat you if you do. I don't want you to worry about that or to feel like you need to watch yourself around me though. I made a promise to your husband that I wouldn't treat you or anyone else with disrespect without cause and I meant it. Not to mention, you're still being kind to me, and you're a good woman and a good mother. I may not want you to be _my_ mother, but I don't want to treat you badly."

Bella's statement filled Esme with sadness. She was truly touched by most of it, but she genuinely wanted to be a mother to her. She may not have known everything Bella had gone through in her life, but Esme believed that she deserved one and she was a good mother. That wasn't a claim made out of arrogance but something she had been told many times by the vampires she often called her children even though they were neither children nor hers. Esme still liked to think of herself as a mother to them on occasion and they treated her as such more often than not, which warmed her heart more than words could ever say.

"I appreciate that as well," Esme replied, feeling much better and far more at ease.

Bella gazed at Esme intently, a calculation in her eyes that made her seem older than her appearance suggested. "In spite of that, I do think we need to set some ground rules."

Esme's eyebrows arched. "What do you have in mind?"

Bella's expression remained serious. "I realize that kindness and a need to help is a driving force in your personality. It's rare, and I like that. I do," she reiterated sincerely, "and as much as I appreciate all the things you've done, it's been really fucking hard for me to accept those things without tearing into you for assuming I can't do those things for myself."

"We haven't made any assumptions, Bella," Esme said gently. "At least, not since you've come back into our lives. That's not a mistake we will ever make again."

"On a logical level, I know you haven't but my pride is constantly telling me something different, so my first instinct is still to lash out," Bella explained. "I don't _want_ to lash out at you, Mrs. Cullen. I really do want to treat you the way you deserve to be."

"I would like nothing more than the same both for myself and for you," she replied. "What do you suggest we do?"

Bella regarded her evenly before she spoke again, "I haven't known you long so I can't claim to know you well, but I'm very good at reading people and it's obvious to me that you're a perceptive woman."

The fact that Bella had noticed this didn't surprise Esme. She hadn't failed to see that the teenager before her was just as observant as she was.

"I threw off some pretty potent warning signs before I blew up at you, and I know you were aware of them at the time," Bella continued. "You disregarded them."

Esme hung her head for a moment. She _had_ disregarded them, but she'd just wanted to help Bella so badly that she'd been willing to overlook those signs in the hope that the girl would come around. Obviously, she was incorrect but that realization had only come to her in hindsight as things so often did.

"I did," she admitted and took to echoing her thoughts. "I just wanted to help you so much."

"I know," Bella told her, "but the only way this whole living together thing is going to work is if you actually respect the boundaries I set, no matter how hard that might be for you, and you also need to understand that I'm not setting those boundaries to hurt your feelings."

Esme nodded thoughtfully. She did understand and she told Bella this. "I promise to respect them as much as I can, Bella, but there are times when I go into 'Mom Mode' first and think later. I hope you won't hold that against me."

Bella's lips curled up in the tiniest smile. "I'll do my best."

"You need to understand as well that when Carlisle and offer to do things for you, we aren't doing it because we think you're incapable," Esme said. "When we say we want to ease your burden and allow you the opportunity to be a kid, we truly mean it, Bella."

Bella was biting the inside of her lip as Esme said this, but then the smile returned to her lips. "I'll do my best at that as well. I'll also try harder to vocalize the boundaries I set more clearly. My warning signs may be strong but they still aren't a worthy substitute for words," she said, "and if you have any boundaries for me, feel free to share them."

"I will," Esme agreed.

"Well, uh, I've got some unpacking to do," Bella told her, "so I'll just leave you be now, unless you'd like some help cleaning up?"

She smiled at her. "No, dear, but thank you for the offer."

Bella nodded in acknowledgment. "Goodnight, Mrs. Cullen."

"Goodnight, Bella," Esme hummed affectionately, a soft smile gracing her lips.

Esme was happier now, more confident. She felt as though she would be able to coexist with Bella without the constant dread of failure hanging over her head. She wanted to be a mother to this girl. This was something she often contemplated, dreamed of, and for the first time she believed it might be possible … if she tread carefully and respected Bella's boundaries.

oOo

**A/N:** There you have it - a mini heart-to-heart between Bella and Esme. It was needed don't you think?

Take care until next time! :)


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer, but her characters are fun to play with so I'm making them do my bidding for the foreseeable future. Jasper as the God of War and Peter 'just knowing shit' are ideas that belong to IDreamofEddy. I do own the plot and original characters of Longing though.

Thank you to my wonderful beta and friend, Laurie Whitlock. My heart and spirit are with you as you continue to deal with the loss of your mom. I love you, sweets. Thank you to my beloved sister/beta/pre-reader, Shelljayz, who brings me great joy every day. I love you so much! :)

Thank you so much to everyone who has followed, favorited, reviewed or just plain stopped by to read or visit. I love you all! :)

I'm sorry I posted this late but I was so tired last night. My weekend was jam-packed and I had a very early morning as well as a day chock full of appointments to look forward to. I tried hard to get it out, but I almost passed out at the computer screen as I was prepping this to post last night, lol! :) Still, sorry for the delay. :(

And on to the good stuff ...

**Chapter 26**

oOo

_Sunday, October 24th, 2080_

BPOV

The shopping trip the previous day had gone well ... after awhile. Initially, Alice had tried my patience, first insisting we go to Seattle instead of making do with Port Angeles. I hadn't argued because that meant wasting more time on the excursion than I had the will to do. I'd still set very clear boundaries on just how much she could participate in the selection of my wardrobe since her zeal for all things fashion seemed to have heavily influenced many of the family's clothing choices (I was totally not down with the preppy look), but only after I had made her explain that zeal; especially since she didn't strike me as a devastatingly shallow kind of girl.

_"Would you please explain to me what it is about designer clothing that gets you so hot and bothered?" I requested in genuine curiosity. "Because I've done the whole designer shopping coma schtick, and I did not feel the magic."_

_Alice beamed at me. "It's the passion that goes into the design, the love and creativity, the thought, the time and the pride that goes into every selection of fabric and every stitch. All of those things in the right combination can produce true works of art, and you'll never buy a designer piece that isn't well-made."_

The works of art thing was taking it a little far in my opinion, but to each her own. Even though I felt that way, I realized it would have been in my best interests to make a snide comment that would force her to think twice about pursuing a friendship with me, but that violated the deal I'd made with Dr. Cullen so my hands were tied on that front, and she did have at least one valid point. Designer shit _was_ quality, as I had learned during my recent trip to New York, and since I had a tendency to be rough on my clothes and especially my shoes, I found the idea appealing. The compromise we made on the matter was that all my clothing had to come from those stores that sold stuff at discount prices and no items over $100 would make an appearance in my closet. I was not okay with owning clothing that cost more than what it would take to feed me for six months. Alice wasn't all that thrilled but once those lines had been drawn, the experience wasn't so insufferable. It got even better when Mrs. Cullen and Charlotte joined in, the latter much more reserved about her part in things, and Rosalie lurking in the background like a beautiful and very pissed off ghost. The former two helped to temper some of Alice's fanaticism, making it more difficult for her to assert her shopping dominance, my conversation with Mrs. Cullen the previous evening no doubt also playing a part in things. So did Edward. His presence almost brought her into this freaky zen state that didn't make much sense to me, but he also encouraged her passion and drew out her bounciness in a less manic way. It was a strange balance, but it worked for them. It also worked for me because she was even more accepting of the limitations I'd set for her when he was with us. It made me like him.

Overall, Alice had been a hell of a lot more acquiescent to my boundaries than I'd expected she would be, despite my talk with her mother.

The men of the family had separated off to do their own thing, Edward splitting his time between us and them, while us girls did ours.

One thing all of the women had been resolute on was where I purchased my underwear. I wasn't fond of the idea of Victoria's Secret but after the unfortunate underwear debacle, as I had taken to calling the state of the ones I'd been wearing when we all met and which had played a huge part in my strip showdown with Rosalie; something I was still not the least bit sorry for, I had a thing about decent underthings. I stubbornly stuck to simple things with little to no lace much to Alice's chagrin, but I didn't give a fuck.

By the end of the day, I was sufficiently irritable. My mindset on allowing others to buy me shit and take care of me hadn't changed, but it was another part of the deal.

_Normal, Bella,_ I reminded myself. _You're going for normal. Annoying, generous, stubborn assholes,_ I still grumbled over the Cullens and their attitude on nearly everything.

It didn't make the blow to my pride any less a bitter pill to swallow, and I found myself contemplating ways to slip Dr. and Mrs. Cullen money for it all when I left. If it wouldn't be such a slap in the face to them, I wouldn't have any hesitation about doing it.

_Why do you care so damn much about their feelings?_ It frustrated me that I couldn't entirely figure this out. I wasn't supposed to care.

It wasn't just that though. Now that I had the money, it would have been nice if they would just let me spend it, and I wasn't talking about my 'Jane' fund. That money had been made strictly through playing the occasional game of poker and betting on horse races, though obviously not with the purpose of finding a killer mind since I had never intended on ending up in a damn morgue, but I'd had two jobs in Louisville. Sure, the exercise rider gig hadn't paid much, but I'd made bank as a bartender and waitress. In the three weeks I'd worked at The Finish Line, I had made $15,000 in tips alone; I worked almost every night and was damn good at my job. I only had seven of that left what with living expenses and the start I'd gotten on my weapons collection, amongst other things. The Cullens didn't know I was currently so well off, but that didn't matter because it still made accepting their help and kindness infinitely more difficult. So much so it left a rancid taste in my mouth and a sick feeling in my belly.

The saving grace of the whole experience was my victory in purchasing my own desk and chair. Since they damn near had a library in their house and several other perfectly acceptable flat surfaces on which I could complete my future homework, I had very convincingly argued that this made a desk of my own an extra and not a necessity. It had been obvious they'd wanted to protest, but, in the end my logic was sound, and they now knew me well enough to recognize when they were treading on shaky ground and tempting fate by arguing with me over it. At least they'd heeded that knowledge and let me spend my money on that without putting up much of a fight. It's not like they could have stopped me because nobody _let_ me do anything, but my irritation would have been much worse if they had echoed my stubbornness. My recent conversation with Mrs. Cullen had helped with that too.

I had also had quite a bit of fun exploring one of those novelty Halloween shops that cropped up every year around this time. I'd never bothered checking them out before and it was pretty cool, though kind of cheesy. Emmett and Peter's antics as I had my fun only made it even more so, and they were shocked to discover that I had never dressed up or gone trick-or-treating before. They had proclaimed this a tragedy. I had just shrugged.

The experience as a whole sucked a lot less than I'd been anticipating.

oOo

"Are you sure there isn't somewhere else you'd like to go?" Dr. Cullen asked.

I was sitting in the passenger's seat of his black Mercedes and we were alone in the car though Mrs. Cullen had wanted to come. I could tell it had been hard for her to give me the space I needed when she so obviously wanted to mother me, but she had done it with grace and understanding and with_out_ comment. She couldn't possibly know just how much I appreciated that because I _did_ need the space, which was yet another boundary of mine she'd respected.

I didn't want to be alone anymore and living with the Cullens most certainly filled that void, but I had gone from living by myself to living with nine other people; it was a lot different than I had imagined it would be. It wasn't like when you worked somewhere, where you only saw certain people for so many hours every day or so, and you only had to exchange pleasantries if you even spoke to them at all before you left them again. There was no escaping those you lived with. You saw them all the time. Despite how often I escaped to the sanctuary of my room, even though it had been less than two days, I just wasn't used to it ... the constant company. I needed out of the house for a little while to decompress from it all, especially after the hours upon hours of marathon sex I had overheard the past couple nights. That's right. I now knew why they needed the soundproofing. I shuddered to think how loud things would be if they didn't have it. I almost felt sorry for Jasper having to overhear all that being the only single person in the house before I came along, not that my presence made a difference for him on that front. One did not need super-hearing to hear that shit loud and clear. I mean, honestly, did _any_ of the Cullens ever sleep?

_Except they aren't all Cullens, are they?_

I had learned the day before that although every single teenager living under Dr. and Mrs. Cullen's roof considered themselves a Cullen, only Edward bore the Cullen name. As Jasper had already told me, he retained the surname Whitlock. His name was still niggling at me, not quite driving me nuts since I had other things to do that at the moment, but bugging me nonetheless. Peter retained 'Whitlock' as well due to their blood relation. Charlotte's last name was Sawyer while Rosalie's was Hale. Emmett and Alice, who were brother and sister, were McCartys. This did not surprise me. Despite the sheer oppositeness of their size, Emmett's and Alice's enthusiasm could very well have been a shared genetic trait, though I still wondered about it. They did share some resemblance to each other I had to admit, but it still seemed suspect to me.

I had other reasons for wanting out of the house though. I was still pissed off about my fingerprints disappearing and, also, kind of freaked out by it. They came back with a thought, but that wasn't all that comforting. My need to escape to be alone with my thoughts on that revelation had been overwhelming me for more than a day now, and I was going a little crazy pretending like I wasn't bothered. I had been wracking my brain trying to figure out if my creators had known I could do it and just neglected to mention it to me (they'd never been very forthcoming) or if they hadn't had a clue either. If the latter was the case, what the hell else could I do that I wasn't aware of? I wasn't sure I wanted to know. I could not deny, however, that disappearing fingerprints was a good thing. Irritating as fuck, yes, but good, and I would no longer have to deal with the mess of super glue to conceal my identity if I ever had to resort to certain unsavory activities again. Gloves were a viable alternative, but they could be a hindrance.

I also had a very important errand to run. Tomorrow was my first day at Forks High School, and I wanted very much to have my own car to get myself there. Though it was technically my first day, it was an unofficial one. I had worked my ass off forging a birth certificate, driver's license, social security card and so on and so forth it was true, but I hadn't bothered with faking school records. I hadn't had that kind of time and without proof of previous schooling, I had no choice but to endure placement testing to determine whether or not I was fit to walk the esteemed academic halls of Forks High.

After I proved to the administration that I was indeed worthy of attendance, they needed those results to decide what to do with me, which grade to dump me in, etc., etc. The tentative plan was that I would endure three hours of testing in the morning on Monday, and then I was free to do as I pleased, including leaving campus if that was what I desired. The same schedule would commence on Tuesday, and lather, rinse, repeat. This had all been ironed out early the morning before even though it was a Saturday, but because he was Carlisle fucking Cullen, the principal had taken his call and developed this plan with the good doctor despite it being one of his days off. God forbid the whole thing wait until the official start of the new school week or that I dare tax my brain by working it for a solid six hours in one day.

I didn't have a problem with the reprieve. It gave me some more uninterrupted time to work on building my computer. It also allowed for me to do it while providing minimal reasons for the Cullens to question what I was doing while I locked myself away in my room.

The testing would take me no more than three days to complete on that schedule, and that was pushing it. I would have to work at a snail's pace to stretch it out for that long, but I really did want that extra time. I could build the computer lightning fast, in a matter of hours, but I didn't want to. Like the placement testing, it wouldn't take me more than three days and that, also, would be me not only working at a snail's pace but at a nearly dead snail's pace. I just wanted to take my time and do it right. I wouldn't make any mistakes if I built it as fast as I was capable of, and I wasn't trying to dawdle, but it would still ease my mind if I took my time. Jane Doe deserved that, and I still had other equipment to build as well as programs to write and security to encode. This wasn't going to be your run-of-the-mill computer. There were very specific things I needed it to do, and I had to make sure it was completely secure, impenetrable and untraceable to anyone but me. Despite my confidence in my abilities, I was going to double and triple check everything. I couldn't afford to botch anything in my investigation.

I didn't want to rely on Dr. or Mrs. Cullen to chauffeur me all over the place. After I got my registration paperwork squared away the next day, Dr. Cullen was returning to work at the hospital and Mrs. Cullen was working on an interior design project in Port Angeles that I didn't want to keep her away from, in addition to wanting to preserve my pride and independence. In light of that, I certainly didn't want to depend on any of the Cullen kids to cart me around even though one of them could easily take me back to the mansion during the school lunch break, and I needed a car anyway, sooner rather than later. I hadn't yet begun looking for a job but I would be getting one soon, and as I had already determined at the outset, a car was very necessary in accomplishing many of the tasks that needed to be completed in figuring out who Jane Doe was and in solving the mystery of who had killed her.

I had already procured a cell phone in New York. It was a burner that had been modified to pick up the signal from the six nearest cell towers and randomly jump from one tower to the next on an indeterminate schedule. That made it especially untraceable and I needed that. It was bad enough that a record of my "birth" was now in the system; I was going to do everything I could to minimize any other records of my existence if I could help it. The car I was buying and the insurance for it would be in Dr. Cullen's name, which was plausible since I was still a minor.

I gave Dr. Cullen a sideways glance. "I need a car. They sell them. I don't see the point in going anywhere else unless their selection is crap. What I still don't get is why you're not insisting on coming with me."

Dr. Cullen's expression tightened. I just didn't know with what emotion, which was unusual. "They're not fans of ours there, so we do our best to avoid them, and they do their best to steer clear of us. It's just easier that way and it works for us. I don't want to upset that delicate balance by showing up at one of their places of business."

I studied him carefully. There was something Carlisle Cullen wasn't telling me, but I wasn't going to pry. It wasn't my place and I had promised I wouldn't ask questions about their lives before me if they didn't ask any about mine before them. That would be a violation of the deal we had made.

We were parked just at the edge of the road that led into La Push, home to the Quileute Indian Reservation. It had surprised me when Dr. Cullen pulled over to the side of the road and told me that he couldn't go any further, that I would have to walk the rest of the way if I had my heart set on car shopping at Black's Auto Repair & Restoration: an establishment that picked up cars at the scrap heap, fixed them up to mint condition and sold them. From the research I had done the night before, their work was quality, their restorations veered toward classics, and they were very successful in these parts. I wasn't looking to own a car worthy of a spot in the Cullen garage, 'cause holy hell that place was a car enthusiast's wet dream, but I wasn't opposed to owning one that was cool as long as it was sturdy, reliable, and fast. Nondescript would have been my preference as well, but living with the Cullens in a town like Forks, my car could have been invisible and everyone here still would have noticed it and known exactly who it belonged to.

Dr. Cullen hadn't tried to hide how unhappy he was at the prospect of leaving me on my own, especially in La Push, and had done his damnedest to convince me to buy a car somewhere else, _any_where else. Many of the Cullens had tried to persuade me to abandon the idea, in fact, except for Rosalie, Charlotte, and Jasper. Jasper's face and eyes had darkened in obvious fury when I'd announced my intentions, but he had kept silent. All that had done was succeed in pissing me off, not that I had ever stopped being angry with him, but I had been trying so very hard not to stab the douche in the neck for the sake of Dr. and Mrs. Cullen. I didn't think they would take too kindly to me murdering their son nor did I believe his brothers and sisters would appreciate it. As much as his betrayal made me want to commit horrible acts of violence against him, I kind of liked the rest of his family, Dr. Cullen in particular, and it would be a little rude to cut his child up into itty bitty pieces when he had saved my life. There was one other reason I had for not killing Jasper ... well, eight reasons actually: Shiri, Elizabeth, Jax, Lucas, Mari, Alana, Matt, and Lydia. In a roundabout way, he had helped save their lives. His reaction had also confused me, which wasn't anything new, but I disliked it just as much now as I always had.

What did surprise me was that Dr. Cullen's apparent need not to leave me unattended didn't annoy me as much as it should have. I was perfectly capable of haggling. I didn't need his breathtakingly good looks to render a car dealer stupid enough to drop the smarmy dick routine and give me a fantastic deal. Maybe it was because I could tell he meant it when he assured me he believed I was after I had very bluntly told him this or maybe it was because he was sincere when he promised he wouldn't interfere in my haggling. I really wasn't sure and I didn't like it.

I shrugged, truly not giving a shit, before nonchalantly saying, "Whatever."

"Will you call me when you're done?" It was more a request than a question.

I rolled my eyes. "If I leave this place with a car, I won't need to. If their selection _is_ crap, I won't have much choice, will I?"

I didn't need to call him if I came away from this excursion carless. I could easily run back to the house faster than it would take him to pick me up and drive us there, and the opportunity to stretch my legs to their full potential and clear my head was extremely welcome. I wouldn't though. Eventually I would have to or I'd go fucking crazy but I wasn't comfortable enough to risk it yet.

"See ya, Doc," I said as I climbed out of the car.

oOo

Black's Auto Repair & Restoration was located on the west edge of the Reservation. It wasn't a huge facility but it wasn't a small one either. When I entered the place, I went through the garage instead of the main office. Getting a good look at the work space, observing the staff, and studying the equipment they used was an excellent way to determine if perusing their merchandise was even worth my time.

The garage itself was clean and well-organized and the equipment appeared to be well-maintained and cared for. It wasn't top of the line tech but it was quality, and for the type of restorations and repairs they did I actually supposed it was. As for the mechanics, their work ethic left much to be desired. It was only 10:00 am and three of the five people I saw in the place were standing and sitting around, shooting the shit like they weren't on the fucking clock.

_Not kosher._

As soon as I walked in, all three of the lazy asses' gazes snapped up to look at me and the two guys that had been underneath the cars actually earning their paychecks rolled out from under them and got to their feet to regard me too. They all wrinkled their noses, nostrils flaring in distinct disgust as if they smelled something rank, but I couldn't figure out what it could have been. My nose could detect nastiness and other things within a two mile radius, and there were scents that weren't pleasant within that range but they were far off on the edges of it. Oh well. The strange behavior of a bunch of Native American kids didn't much matter to me. It sure as hell wasn't me that smelled.

"You're the girl that lives with the Cullens," one of the boys spat, glaring, as he began to tremble subtly.

I wasn't sure how he knew this, and I also wasn't certain I could actually call him a boy. I wasn't sure I could call _any_ of them boys or kids, though that was what I had initially pegged them as. They were all tall, preposterously tall. Two of the boys were even taller than Emmett, one matched his height, and the fourth boy was just a little shorter; all of them were just as broad, though not quite as muscular. Oh, they were muscular to be sure, just not as impressively as the goofball Cullen. All four of the boys' hair was black and cropped. The fifth person in the garage was a girl. She was also tall, 5'10" I surmised even though she was sitting on top of a work table, with black hair that just brushed her shoulders. All five of them had russet colored skin and dark eyes, and that was what gave them away. When I met the eyes of each of the Quileutes, they were what betrayed their youth because their physical appearances suggested they were years older than they actually were. There was a maturity to their gazes that wasn't present in most of the kids I had met, but their eyes still belied that they were young. Those eyes also gave me a sense that they weren't quite normal. I couldn't put my finger on it but my gut was telling me this, and I always trusted my gut.

"Yes, I'm the girl that lives with the Cullens," I acknowledged curtly before my tone turned sarcastic, "and you must be Mr. Congeniality. Is this how you speak to all of your customers?"

The boy's trembling became more pronounced, his nostrils flared wider and the blatant hostility rolling off of him was palpable. His trembling wasn't exactly proving me wrong.

My gaze narrowed. I hadn't really believed Dr. Cullen when he told me that he and his family didn't get along with the Quileutes because it was really hard to picture _anyone_ not liking them, except for two parties whose names I would not think of until I had this situation dealt with. While I was now a hell of a lot more curious as to what could have caused the feud between the mostly mild-mannered millionaires and the Quileutes, I was now fucking irritated. I didn't come here for this shit. I came to buy a damn car.

"Paul!" the tallest boy snapped, his expression dark as their gazes met. I got the feeling that he wasn't reprimanding the slightly shorter boy because he'd been rude to me. The others edged closer to him as if preparing for him to explode, and he genuinely looked as though he might. It raised the hairs on the back of my neck, but I wasn't intimidated.

The tall boy and the one called Paul stared at each other for a long time, almost like they were having a silent conversation or standoff, Paul shaking violently until eventually he straightened up and seemed to get ahold of himself. From the interaction between the two, it wasn't the first time the other boy had felt the need to reprimand the clearly hot-headed other one. Once Paul calmed down, they all refocused their attention on me.

"So," the tall boy asked, trying to sound sly but only managing to sound tense, "how are the pasty ones treating you?"

I crossed my arms over my chest in annoyance. "Are you going to stand around all day discussing my living arrangements and roommates like gossipy little bitches or are you going to sell me a car? If it's the former, I have no problem taking my business to an establishment that focuses on customer service rather than name-calling and prejudiced grudges."

I had half a mind to do that anyway if not for some of the kickass cars I'd glimpsed on my way into the garage. I certainly wasn't opposed to throwing down if these assholes continued to talk shit. The Cullens might not be the most normal folk but they were good people, they were being good to _me_, and I was feeling strangely protective of them.

Paul glowered at me. "Why would you buy a car _here_? Did the Cullens short you on your allowance? And what makes you think we would even _take_ their money?"

"Dude," the shortest boy exclaimed sharply, scowling, "lay off! The Cullens aren't so bad."

I immediately liked the boy who was clearly the youngest based on how the others oriented themselves protectively around him. They certainly didn't need to protect him from me, but I suspected they were doing it more out of habit than anything else. Despite the youngest boy's redeeming qualities, I still bristled at Paul's acidic comments.

"Apparently, you're hard of hearing or perhaps you're just too thick to know when it's best for you to keep your fucking mouth shut," I growled menacingly, "and for your information, I'm not here on the Cullen's dime. I'm using my own goddamn money to buy my own fucking car, asshole! I don't want their money and I don't need it, and whether I was using it or not you would be a damn fool for passing up a paycheck just because you're too much of an idiot to pull your head out of your ass!"

Paul was taken aback by my outburst, his jaw slack in astonishment. The two tallest boys were fighting back grins. The youngest boy and the girl weren't fighting anything, openly grinning at me, impressed. All of them were, even Paul despite his shock. I couldn't be sure if they were impressed because I'd yelled at him or because I was refusing to use the Cullens' money. Their reasons were another thing I didn't much care about.

The girl hopped off the work counter she'd been sitting on and made her way toward me, stopping when she came within a foot and a half proximity to me. The tallest boy trailed behind her, coming up on her left side, wrapping an arm around her waist, and leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. The others moved forward a few steps, gathering to her right but still hanging back.

The girl smiled wryly at me, the boy who had joined her giving me a friendly smile that lacked the snark I read in her body language, and held out her hand, "I'm Leah Clearwater."

I didn't move my gaze to her hand, meeting her eyes with a hard stare and an equally hard expression. She may have been a girl but that didn't ease my distaste for touching, and I wasn't about to accept the friendly gesture in the wake of Paul's Cullen bashing and how I had been treated thus far.

I wasn't in a forgiving mood.

Leah didn't seem to mind and her snark and confidence reminded me of my own. I had to respect her for it, I always respected those that didn't take shit from others even if that 'other' was me, and I studied her some more, trying to see if we were alike in any other ways even if most of my observations were technically only superficial at this point.

Leah was a beautiful girl; gorgeous was a more accurate way to describe her, one of the most stunning girls I had ever seen, though her beauty was different from Esme's, Alice's, Rosalie's, and Charlotte's. Theirs was painfully, unnaturally perfect, but Leah's was exotic, organic and earthy. The boy at her side had a similar beauty about him with a rugged quality that was distinctly masculine. Their looks complemented each other. They looked as though they were meant to be at each other's sides, like they had been made for each other. It was a thought that struck me like a bolt of lightning, and I wasn't sure where it had come from since I was no expert on love and relationships. They reminded me of Dr. and Mrs. Cullen, Emmett and Rosalie, Edward and Alice, and Peter and Charlotte. Whenever I looked at those four couples, that was the feeling I got.

Leah gestured toward Paul. "That jackass is Paul Lahote," she said, and then gestured at the second tallest boy, "this is Sam Uley," she continued before pointing at the youngest, "my little brother Seth," and then she smiled lovingly up at the boy next to her, making me throw up in my mouth a little, "and Jacob Black."

Jacob grinned down at her, his eyes shining with love, and my gag reflex grew stronger. "Please forgive Paul's rudeness," he said, his tone going mischievous, "not all of us act as though we were raised by wolves."

Jacob's statement elicited a laugh from the others, Paul's a reluctant one, and I detected some sort of inside joke. It was another thing I was not in the mood for and my scowl did not fade.

"Black?" I queried, pointedly not introducing myself. "As in the Black on the sign outside?"

"Yep," Jacob confirmed.

"So," I said, moving on with things, "are you just the elbow grease or do your talents extend to swindling people out of their money too?"

Jacob's eyes widened but he soon regained his composure, his easy grin once again spreading across his face. I guessed I could kind of see why Leah liked the guy. "Sure, sure," he said. "Dad usually handles sales but he's dealing with tribe business today, and I've taken on that end of the business before. Plus, I know all the cars inside and out since I always have a big hand in their restorations. You willing to deal with a lowly grease monkey?"

"Sure, sure," I echoed, mocking.

Leah's grin widened. "I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't deny it was a possibility … _if_ I was in the market for friends. Friends were a normal thing though, and I suddenly found myself considering it.

Three hours later, I was the proud owner of a shiny black 2039 Ford Mustang Shelby GT500 Super. It had a V8 engine, was capable of hitting 275 mph when pushed to its limits, it was sturdy and reliable - the other criteria I'd had for my car, and it ran like it had just come off the line a few weeks ago instead of 41 years in the past. Jacob was a damn genius mechanic for a seventeen year old. Aside from specialty modifications, I couldn't have done it better myself ... well, I could have, but Jacob wasn't a genetically-engineered genius.

If I had the time, I might have built my own car just to keep myself from getting bored. I had a hard time shutting down my brain and relaxing was difficult for me. If I didn't have Jane's murder to solve, living with the Cullens wouldn't provide enough distractions from the ever-present busy-ness in my head and designing and constructing my own car would have helped with that.

Part of me was afraid to relax, I supposed. If I didn't distract myself or if I let my mind rest too much, no matter how good I was at compartmentalizing, it would just be an invitation to revisit shit I had no interest in revisiting, so I never did. I was a Renaissance woman, making use of all the things I had learned during my time at Fort Ares to ensure that this didn't happen, and I truly had learned much there; much more than a kid my age needed to know. I was being trained as a one woman army, the perfect spy with no need of a support team, and my skill set had needed to be well-rounded. That was why I knew how to forge documents, fix and hotwire cars, hack into secure servers, build computers and communication devices, pick locks, disable security systems, improvise weapons and explosives, and so many other things. After I left Fort Ares, I hadn't been able to get a job to support myself until I was fifteen, surviving on stealing, hustling cards and pool as well as a variety of other unsavory activities. There was some honest stuff thrown in there too, my conscience only able to tolerate so many felonies and misdemeanors, but I never went to the trouble of making the ways I earned my income complex, so I'd had a lot of free time.

Even after I'd been old enough to get jobs, I still had a lot of free time. It was a side effect of not needing to sleep much. I spent a good chunk of that time reading everything I could get my hands on, and I went through books and other sources of information like a wildfire spreads through dry tinder soaked in gasoline. My intellect and memory allowed me to learn things almost instantly so what I hadn't learned at my place of origin, I had come to know later on. I was very far from knowing everything; there was still much of the world and its vast cornucopia of knowledge I had yet to discover, but I knew a lot and the stuff I _did_ know, I knew intimately and extensively.

My knowledge of cars and the need for the one I bought to be trustworthy meant it had to pass my inspection and, due to Jacob's mechanical brilliance, the Shelby did, with flying colors. It helped that I got the car for $10,000, paid in full with cash, which was a pretty sweet deal. That model was a true classic and in the pristine condition he and his father had restored it to, it was actually more than a sweet deal. It was a fucking steal, and I almost felt bad for paying so little … almost. Part of the deal I made with Jacob was that I had to bring the car back to him for any repairs, tune-ups, and oil changes, and I had agreed to this without hesitation … granted the needed repairs were ones that didn't need to be completed especially quickly. If he had been a shit mechanic that would have been an issue since I was fully capable of doing those things myself, but it was the least I could do after the way he'd hooked me up. I was a steadfast believer that people should be well-compensated for quality work and Jacob was clearly passionate about his part-time job at the family business. He also seemed to love and genuinely respect his father and I liked that too.

All in all, I was pleased with the transaction, though I was still irked by how things had gone when I'd first arrived. Leah, Jacob, Seth and Sam were pretty cool, and Paul wasn't nearly as much of an ass as he'd been then. I could even say he was tolerable by the time I left, but I still wasn't in a forgiving mood and there was no telling how long he would be on my shit list.

Leah had insinuated she would have liked to exchange phone numbers, but I didn't acknowledge her subtle hints. If we ran into each other I wouldn't avoid her, but I wasn't going to go out of my way to be buddy-buddy with her either. I already had Alice and possibly Charlotte to contend with on that front and even if the thought of being friends with Leah had crossed my mind, I still had no intention of developing any attachments that went any further than skin deep. It was just too damn dangerous.

oOo

When I pulled into the driveway of the Cullen home, the whole family was on the front porch waiting for me and they hadn't just emerged from the house either. One of the Shelby's only drawbacks was that its V8 engine wasn't exactly quiet as a mouse, and since all nine members of the Cullen family seemed to have heard me drive up from quite a ways off, I was going to have to do something about that. If I couldn't have nondescript, I could at least have quiet.

As I climbed out of the driver's side, I took note of just how relieved almost everyone was at my return. I couldn't decide whether to be touched or offended. Jasper remained as unreadable as always, and my agitation over the fact that I couldn't keep my eyes from straying to him returned full force ... until I reminded myself that I was just watching my back and keeping my promise to tread carefully around him.

Rosalie was the first to approach but she only had eyes for my masterpiece of an automobile. She didn't acknowledge me at all as she moved around it, inspecting it carefully, from every angle, and with what looked like an expert's eye.

_So blondie has layers,_ I mused, not all that surprised. People were rarely what they seemed and Rosalie may have had a seriously bitchy side, but I was betting there was more to her. I still didn't particularly like her, and she still fucking hated me, but I knew enough about psychology to understand that she had lashed out at me all those weeks ago because she'd felt threatened. Threatened by what I hadn't the slightest clue, and I was sure she had other reasons for it as well, but I wasn't really holding that against her … at the moment, anyway. I waffled on that. Sometimes I wanted to scoop the bitch's eyes out of her head with a melon baller for it, but I would behave and remain as neutral as possible until she gave me a reason not to. I yet again showed this restraint for the sake of Dr. and Mrs. Cullen and our deal. Emmett, too. He genuinely seemed to love her but I was beginning to wonder if it was more because of the sex than anything else. Well, that's what I _would_ have thought if I could ignore the whole "made for each other" vibe they threw off. As long as she didn't fuck with my car, no melon baller in the state of Washington would see any eye socket action by my hand.

Her scrutiny continued with a silent intensity I wouldn't have thought her capable of without the proof standing before me, and the rest of the family made their way over to do their own assessments of my new treasure. I was actually eager to hear their opinions on my purchase.

_This is my first car,_ I thought all of a sudden, a broad grin spreading from what felt like one ear to the other.

I had driven cars and motorcycles and, on occasion, stolen them, but I had never owned one before. I hadn't forgotten this little nugget of information but I was so intent on my goals that I hadn't let the idea truly sink in. Now I felt giddy and almost light in my excitement, and I imagined these were the feelings most teenagers experienced when they got their first cars. I was proud and happy and feeling almost normal when an image popped into my brain uninvited. It was of a girl, a girl who looked vaguely like me, going car shopping with a mother and a father. They were laughing and helping the girl figure out which car would be best, hugging her and making sure the shyster car salesman wasn't taking advantage. My smile faded some, a heavy cloak of sadness falling around me, and then the face of the father in my little fantasy lost its haziness. Instead of the featureless entity, short, neatly combed, golden hair, movie-star good looks, and kind, gentle, golden eyes took its place. It was the face of Carlisle Cullen.

_He is_ not _your father, Bella,_ I fumed internally, furious with myself, _and you don't want him to be!_

My anger sputtered and died when my skin lit on fire, the way it always did when Jasper's eyes found me. I brought my gaze to his, meeting it steadily but without the challenge he without fail evoked, my heart just not up to mustering it, and getting lost in the golden depths of them. I was still pissed at him. I would _always_ be pissed at him, but I was grateful to him then. I was beginning to feel very lost and small, and his eyes were like an anchor, keeping me grounded and making it seem as though being small sometimes wasn't the worst thing in the world. It gave me the fortitude I needed to collect myself, to regain the equilibrium I had unexpectedly lost at the vision that still swam in my head and the strength to push that vision away much more quickly than I would have otherwise.

Once the images had been banished from my head, I went back to being angry. Of all people, I was not supposed to find solace in Jasper Whitlock but the sadness still hadn't left me completely, and I was far less angry about it than I should have been. I averted my eyes.

"Nice car," Emmett said approvingly.

"You did make a fine choice," Dr. Cullen agreed with a smile.

"You and Jasper have similar taste apparently," Peter chimed in, amused.

I moved my eyes back to the boy in question. I had seen the midnight blue Mustang in the garage. It was much older than mine, decades older, but I wasn't sure of the year. I knew about cars but I wasn't an encyclopedia of their history.

"That beautiful piece of machinery is yours?" I asked, managing to keep my tone free of hostility.

Jasper's eyes hadn't left me after I had broken my gaze from his, the look in them intense, curious, and filled with something else I couldn't fathom. He smiled at me and my heart was tempted to skip a beat. I scowled and he nodded. "Yes, that beautiful piece of machinery is mine."

"So the asshole has good taste in cars. How _very_ adorable," I grumbled sarcastically under my breath, irked. "What make is it?" I found myself asking despite my irritation.

"It's a 1966 Fastback," he answered, pride and pleasure clear on his face, though he seemed the slightest bit annoyed. Against my will, I admitted I liked that look on him.

_Fucking hell!_

"I suppose your choice is acceptable," Rosalie posited in mild disdain, her inspection apparently having concluded.

She'd just given me an excuse to be rude but I wasn't going to bite. I wasn't granting the deferment out of the goodness of my heart but rather out of gratitude for thwarting any further conversation with her brother.

"_So_ glad you approve," I said flippantly. Fine, so I couldn't be entirely civil. It's a character flaw.

oOo

_Tuesday October 26th, 2080_

JPOV

It was going on five days since Bella moved in. Those five days had been different; _obviously_ they were going to be different. None of us vampires had lived with any humans since we were human, and it was taking some adjusting. So far, we'd managed to avoid eating her and with her, and were each thanking whatever deity suited our preferences for it. I had taken up a 'praise a deity a day' ritual myself just to cover all my bases. Today's deity? Dionysus. He was the god of all sorts of things but I had chosen him for one purpose: dude was the god of drunken revelry. After being continuously cooped up in the same space with Bella for a good chunk of those five days, I needed to feel fuckin' drunk. Vampires couldn't get drunk though, and even though my gift allowed me to absorb the feeling from others, I was too fuckin' lazy to drive all the way to Port Angeles to hit up a decent bar. That's why, despite that my beliefs erred on the side of 'Jesus loves you,' I was still hoping the blitzed fucker would take pity on me and oblige my need to feel drunkenness. It would have been nice if I could get Bella drunk in order to mooch the buzz off of her but neither Carlisle nor Esme would go for that. I didn't have to ask to know it. She was underage and they would not approve. However, I failed to see how a little alcohol would hurt Bella. Maybe it would dislodge the stick up her ass. Then again, if she ended up being a horny drunk that would totally fuckin' bite _me_ in the ass.

We had developed an odd little dance the past few days. When she wasn't barricaded in her room doing God knows what (none of us could figure out the solder smell that emanated from it and as not one of us had been extended an invitation into her personal space, our curiosity had gone unsatisfied. Then there was her "Son of a bitch! Seriously?" exclamation that was loud enough for us to hear through the soundproofing, and which had us all 'dying' of a forbidden inquisitiveness), she would either pretend I didn't exist, snipe at me at a volume a human wouldn't be able to hear, or clearly broadcast how much she fuckin' hated me by shooting daggers at me with her eyes. I wasn't sure how I felt about any of those reactions. Part of me was so pissed off I wanted to pin her to another wall and demand that she tell me what the fuck I had done but thinking about pinning her to a wall got me so damn hard I fuckin' ached, which was not helpful; I already ached from all the pent up emotions. Another part of me wanted to take her in my arms and hold her. That was irritating.

It was obvious to me that she was having trouble adjusting to being here. I had seen both her joy and sadness during our popcorn war, the one I'd incited to save us all from having to eat any of Emmett's junk food and just because it seemed like a fun idea, but there had been a wonder there as well. It was as though she'd never experienced something like that before and was amazed by it. It reemphasized the haunted quality in her eyes that was so familiar to me, the one I saw in my own every time I looked in a mirror. While those things irritatingly tore at me, they weren't why I felt the compulsive need to hold her and offer her comfort. It was the look that had briefly clouded her features when she'd come home from buying her car. I had no idea what had caused it, but there had suddenly been such intense devastation, bitterness, and longing on her face that I knew if I had been able to feel her emotions, they would have stolen the breath from my lungs, the breath I didn't need but in that moment had felt like I did. It had made me want more than anything to be able to project and for the first time since my ability to do it had gone on the fritz, I hadn't wanted it for my sake. I had wanted it for the purpose of erasing that look from her features. I would have done anything to keep that expression from ever clouding them again and for the first time since we'd seen each other since she had shown back up in Forks, she hadn't looked at me as though I was the scum of the Earth. It was a relief, though it hadn't lasted long. The most alarming thing had been the missing challenge from her gaze but she had hidden her emotions quickly. She seemed always to be in tight control of them, but I knew from centuries of experience that those feelings hadn't left her. It made me fuckin' uncomfortable and I didn't like it.

Alice plopped down next to me on the couch in my study, her excitement pelting me like hail in a hailstorm. I moved my gaze to her. "Something you wanna share, Ali?"

She smiled at me. "I need your help."

Whatever it was she wanted my help with, I had an inkling I wasn't going to like it if her sickeningly excited emotions were anything to go by. I decided to take a cautious approach to my inquiry, making sure this was reflected in my tone as I asked, "What with?"

Normally Alice would have rolled her eyes and given me shit for my hesitation, but she was too excited about whatever her proposition was to bother.

"I'm making a Halloween costume for Edward!" she gushed gleefully.

Emmett and Peter had discovered that Bella had never dressed up for or gone trick-or-treating on Halloween. They considered this a travesty and were taking it upon themselves to fix it. Bella didn't know this as the whole thing was supposed to be a surprise, and Alice had been commandeered to make her a costume; not that her arm needed twisting. As far as I knew, it was only going to be my two idiot brothers and our human. Apparently, Alice had other ideas and her excitement was starting to make some sense.

"And you need my help why?"

"I need a model," she replied matter-of-factly.

"You want a model for that shit, that's what you've got your boy toy for and you're making it for him anyway, Alice," I pointed out. "_He_ can be your model."

"That is also what I've got a best friend for," Alice told me cheerily, "and he can't be my model if I want the costume to be a surprise."

"Alice-" I began, intent on refusing. Edward and the others, aside from Peter, Charlotte, Alice, and I, were out hunting. Bella was in her room, continuing to do God knows what.

"Please, Jazz," she begged, popping out her bottom lip. "You know how hard it is for me to surprise him. If I ask anyone else, it will ruin it. Please, Jazzy, please be my costume model?"

I opened my mouth to refuse again but she added the puppy dog eyes to the pouty lip, and I knew I was fucked. "Motherfuckin' puppy dog eyes," I grumbled crossly.

Alice lost the puppy dog look, the smile stretching her face bright as a nuclear detonation, and squealed, throwing her arms around me. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

I pushed her gently away from me and scowled, forcibly releasing the tension in my muscles from the unexpected hug, and got to my feet with unnecessary vehemence. "Tamp it down, will you?" I snapped. "If I wanted to feel like a fangirl at a Justin Bieber concert, I'd go to a fuckin' Justin Bieber concert and since the only remote chance of that happening is when hell freezes over, I obviously do _not_. Get a damn grip on yourself before I change my fuckin' mind!"

I loved Alice but she was pushing it and the only reason I was still following her to her design studio and not throttling her was because I could feel that she was trying to honor my request.

We all had our own recreational space in the house, which was one of the reasons it was such a hulking monstrosity. Carlisle and I each had a study, Rose's domain was the garage, Esme and Alice shared a gargantuan studio for their fashion and interior/architectural design pursuits, Edward had the fully-functional music/recording room, though we all made use of it occasionally, and Emmett had a workshop that he did his shit in. His interests varied. Sometimes he built furniture, sometimes computers ... hell, half the time I had no idea what the fuck he did in there, but it was his space and we all respected each other's space. Now that Peter, Charlotte and Bella lived here, I could easily envision another expansion and some more remodeling ensuing so that they could have theirs.

Alice and Esme's studio was on the third floor, next to Bella's room. Once she had me wrangled into her evil fashion lair, she heaped a bunch of sewing supplies onto her worktable, including bolts of fabric and some other shit I had no clue about. I just stood there, watching, with my arms crossed over my chest as she busied herself, and wondered if maybe I shouldn't just cut out while I still could.

Alice's head snapped up, the telltale glaze of a vision just leaving her golden orbs; I was caught and I hadn't even made a decision yet.

"Don't you dare!" she cried. "You promised," insert puppy dog eyes. I held my hands up in surrender and she grinned again, "Now strip, Whitlock."

My eyes widened and then narrowed in rapid succession. "Alice," I warned.

Puppy dog eyes. Pouty lip. _Shit!_

"Motherfuckin' puppy dog eyes," I swore again.

Alice smirked but knew better than to snicker. "You would have done it whether I used the puppy dog eyes or not," she informed me smugly.

"Bullshit," I scoffed. "I am _only_ doing this because of the puppy dog eyes."

"Nope," she said, "you're doing it because you love me." I didn't argue with this. It was annoying as hell to admit, but it was true. She dropped her eyes to my belt, "Now drop 'em, Whitlock, or I'll drop 'em for you."

I snorted. "Relax, Ali. If you wanted to get in my pants, all you had to do was ask. You didn't have to go to all the trouble of comin' up with this 'I'm makin' Edward a costume' ruse."

She knew I was teasing but she still levelled me with a withering glare. "Let us not go there."

I kicked off my boots, and as I unfastened the buckle and the button to my jeans, I asked, "What is this costume you're makin' lover boy?"

"He's going to be Marc Antony to my Cleopatra," Alice answered, gesturing to a yellow dress hanging on one of her dress forms, an ornate blue and gold headpiece perched atop it. They were truly magnificent, the dress a high fashion and modern take on one of Liz Taylor's costumes from the movie _Cleopatra_, and the headpiece a similar reimagining of one of Vivien Leigh's from her version of it. Both were genuine displays of Alice's remarkable talent.

_I have been livin' with that fashion-obsessed midget for way too fuckin' long!_

I grumbled irritably for a moment and then latched onto her emotions. Alice was happy right now and I was going to hitch a ride on that shit. How else was I going to survive getting fitted for a fuckin' chilton? Once my mood was sufficiently less acerbic, I felt more inclined not to be an asshole about things. Thank God for Alice and the sun that shone out of her ass!

"Someone's been a busy little bee," I observed, stepping out of the pool my jeans had made when I dropped them from my hips. I was now standing in the middle of Alice's studio in my long-sleeved T-shirt and boxer briefs.

"Of course, I have."

"I hope to God you lengthen the hem line on this get up. No one wants to see Eddie's joystick," I soundly assured her.

Alice was busy taking measurements and didn't look up at me when she replied, "Everyone has already seen it."

I shuddered. Three, now four, mated couples living together in one house had led to some awkwardness over the years, and Emmett and Rosalie weren't the only freaks in the bunch.

"_Again,_" I amended, "no one wants to see it _again_."

Alice couldn't hold back her snicker this time but made no further comments on that. She had something else she wanted to ask me instead. "What are you going to dress up as?"

"What makes you think I'm dressin' up?"

"Jasper!" She admonished, glowering at me. "It's Halloween! You have to dress up! All of us are, even Carlisle and Esme."

I rolled my eyes but didn't see the point in making a fuss. Going trick-or-treating with Em and Pete was bound to be hilarious. I was so not going to miss that. I'd go out looking like a complete jackass myself just to watch whatever those two knuckleheads were planning. I had a couple old standby options in which I would _not_ look like a jackass though, so it was all good.

Alice's eyes glazed over. "No! You can_not_ be a soldier or a cowboy, Jasper," she said wearily. "Halloween is 'come as you _aren't_' night. Why else do you think girls dress like shameless sluts? It's the perfect time to get all sexy and wild with no repercussions. Brush up on your _Buffy_."

"If I recall, there were many repercussions in that episode, Alice," I reminded her. The family used to watch _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ together simply to up the irony factor ... well that, and Emmett and Alice were obsessed with it. I didn't object because Buffy and Cordelia were hot. Imagine my surprise when I discovered it was actually a decent show.

"Pssh, all the bad crap happened _because_ Willow wore the ghost costume over the slutty outfit," Alice explained offhandedly.

"And here I spent all this time thinking all the bad shit happened because of a guy who got off on dark magic, inciting chaos, and playing dress up," I said sarcastically. "I guess we'd better start spreading the word that skankiness is the key to world peace and balancing the cosmos."

"Yep," she agreed, tucking her measuring tape between her teeth.

She pinned a length of fabric around my hips then and I raised my eyebrows. "Is that why you're tryin' to shove me into Eddie's man skirt? Is this your way of tryin' to encourage me to get all sexy and wild?" I asked in amusement.

Alice swatted my shoulder. "You don't need to get either. You're already sexy and the last thing any of us want is for you to get wild, but you _could_ have some fun. You don't seem to have enough of that lately. I miss seeing you smile and hearing you laugh, Jazz."

Her emotions were somber and they tugged at me uncomfortably. I didn't like where this conversation could be heading so I did one of the things I was so very good at - evasion. "Any particular reason you chose Marc Antony? Aside from easy access, of course," I added with a smirk.

Alice shook her head in mock-exasperation at my ribbing, but smiled nonetheless. "Edward has always had a crush on Elizabeth Taylor and Vivien Leigh. Plus, he's got a thing for headpieces."

I grinned at her. "I knew he had a thing for head cases the second he set his sights on you."

Alice glared at me but her emotions had gone from somber to irritably amused. "Head_pieces_, asshole! Head_pieces_!"

I just shrugged innocently at her, doing my best to imitate the perfect boyishness that got Emmett away with murder. Her lips quirked up against their will and I once again found myself abruptly in her arms.

"You're such an ass, Jasper," she said, but she was giggling and her emotions lacked conviction.

"I may be an ass but you love me," I said confidently.

"Eh," Alice grunted, wrinkling her nose, "only a little."

"Yeah, well, I don't love you at all," I teased.

Her little arms squeezed me tighter and I wanted not to _want_ to push her away, but I moved out of her arms anyway.

Alice just smiled, pretending like she didn't notice. "Thanks, Jazzy."

"You're welcome but do not for one second think that this is an invitation for me to be your damn Ken doll, munchkin," I told her emphatically.

"You really aren't a good model for Edward anyway," she said. "Aside from your hips, your measurements don't match at all. Your shoulders are broader than his and you're more muscular. Besides, if I need a Ken doll in the future that is what I have my boy toy for, as you pointed out. He is my bitch, after all."

I snickered. "A very willing and pussy-whipped bitch."

"Of course," Alice agreed as if there was no other option for him to be. I supposed there wasn't.

_Fuckin' mating bond._

"Nice legs, Whitlock," Bella's voice sounded dryly and somewhat vindictive. Despite this, it was still sexy as hell and I prayed that I wouldn't pop a boner. I was standing there in just my boxer briefs and the not so restricting material Alice was making Edward's tunic out of. I wouldn't exactly be able to hide it and I didn't want her to know how she still affected me, not when she was so fuckin' hostile. I wouldn't give her that satisfaction.

I swiveled my head to look at her. She was leaning casually in the doorway, ankles and arms crossed, regarding me with her now usual contempt. There was something else in her eyes I couldn't place, and her emotions were still completely cut off from me. It wouldn't have mattered if I could feel them since they would most likely still be unreadable to me but it would have been comforting anyway.

"I suppose I should have pegged you as the skirt wearing type," she sniped.

My gaze narrowed, my spine went ramrod straight, and my jaw clenched. _Why do you always in-fuckin'-sist on pissing me off? And why do you always look so damn hot when you do it?_ Why was she the only person in the goddamn world that couldn't sense how fuckin' dangerous it was to test me? _Be patient with her, Jasper, be patient,_ I chanted.

"They are damn nice, aren't they?" I smirked. "It would be a crime not to show them off. You, on the other hand, strike me as the type that thinks skirts are a crime against feminism," I returned, deciding there was absolutely nothing wrong with sarcasm and unable to resist the challenge that had returned to her eyes. As annoyed with her as I was, that was a relief.

She shrugged noncommittally but the emotion in her eyes hadn't changed. The contempt and other thing I couldn't read was still there.

oOo

**A/N:** Damn, Bella has never been trick-or-treating! What the hell? Of _course_ it's up to Emmett and Peter to fix it. And Jasper can't just outright be nice to Alice while he's being her Ken doll. That would just be odd. :) What hijinks will ensue once Halloween finally rolls around? I guess you'll have to wait and see ... ::insert maniacal laughter::

This is where I take the time to give a huge thank you to juliangelus, GeezerWench, bmitw and KittyVortex for helping me with the costume ideas for Alice and Edward, and for helping to solidify what Jasper would do for Alice to show a somewhat different side to him.

The _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ episode I referenced is the season 2 ep., "Halloween." It's an excellent episode and worth checking out. The whole series is a must-watch, in my opinion, but ...

Justin Bieber was not my first choice of fangirl phenomenon, but having a story placed so far in the future makes things difficult and though I wracked my brain, I couldn't think of anyone else.

I added pictures of both Bella's and Jasper's cars to my photobucket album for Longing. The link can be found on my profile as can the link to the cabin from the chapter 24 outtake if you're interested in checking that stuff out. :) The picture of Jasper's Mustang is not midnight blue, but I couldn't find a picture of it in that color.

Any thoughts on Bella's first meeting with some of the wolves? Her car purchase? How things went down after she got home? Jasper's inner monologue? You know I would love to hear. :)

There's an outtake for this chapter. There won't be one for every chapter, though lately that impression has been given I'm sure. I have several reasons for writing them, though I won't go in to that now. This outtake is a little peek into Alice's thoughts on shopping with Bella. :)


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer, but her characters are fun to play with so I'm making them do my bidding for the foreseeable future. Jasper as the God of War and Peter 'just knowing shit' are ideas that belong to IDreamofEddy. I do own the plot and original characters of Longing though.

Thank you to my wonderful beta and friend, Laurie Whitlock. My heart and spirit are with you as you continue to deal with the loss of your mom. I love you, sweets. Thank you to my beloved sister/beta/pre-reader, Shelljayz, who brings me great joy every day. I love you so much! :)

Thank you so much to everyone who has followed, favorited, reviewed or just plain stopped by to read or visit. I love you all! :)

I am once again sorry for the delay.

Now, what was Alice thinking?

oOo

**Longing Chapter 26 Outtake**

_Saturday, October 23rd, 2080_

APOV

I was so excited! Bella moved in yesterday, we had a popcorn war, she was on _my_ team, and today we were going shopping!

I could see it now: the two of us arm in arm as we strolled through Nordstrom, riffling through the racks of Gucci, Prada, and Alexander McQueen, digging through the Fendi purses and trying on pairs of Manolos, giggling and whispering like old friends all the while. Okay, so I couldn't actually see it, I still couldn't see _her_, but I had a vivid imagination.

"I'm going to have to stop you there, Ali, love," Edward said as he walked out of our en suite bathroom, in nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips. Now I _had_ seen that. God, I loved my gift in instances like these. Seeing my man nearly naked times two was freaking awesome! I licked my lips at the sight, and he smirked slightly but continued on as if he hadn't noticed. "This isn't going to be like every other shopping trip you go on."

He brought the extra towel he was carrying up to his head and scrubbed it roughly through his dripping hair, watching as I digested this information.  
I was momentarily distracted as my eyes fixed on the droplets of water slithering over the well-defined muscles of his chest and abs. Maybe Edward wasn't as bulky as Emmett, Jasper, Peter or even Carlisle, but he was cut and filled out just right for his height and frame. Broad shoulders, trim hips, long legs ... he was perfect, and he was mine. I was an idiot for not figuring that out sooner.

"You never know," I said with a shrug. "It could be."

He gave me an affectionate smile. "Your optimism is one of the things I love most about you, Alice, but even you have got to see how unlikely that is."

I crossed my arms stubbornly. "She's been different since she moved in. She's not quite so obstinate, and she promised Carlisle she would play nice."

"Love, Bella moved in yesterday," he said patiently. "I don't think that's enough time to tell how she's going to be, and one popcorn fight doesn't necessarily prove anything."

"You're being awfully negative," I huffed.

He dropped the towel he'd been using to dry his hair on the floor, leaving it in a heap as he made his way to his dresser to pick out a pair of boxers. It would stay there until we got home from Seattle unless I picked it up. Edward wasn't exactly a neat freak, but I loved him anyway.

He made his way to our walk-in closet without further comment, me following behind him. I remained in the doorway, observing as he perused the racks of his clothes. I hadn't seen what he would wear since he had yet to decide, and I wasn't going to help. I'd taught him well enough over the years to have faith he would choose well. He could pick out which was Prada and which was Walmart even if he was under complete sensory deprivation. Besides, my man could make a burlap sack look stylish.

I _did_ have a vision of him rolling his eyes when he heard those thoughts. I saw him smirk and he undid the towel around his hips, letting it fall to the floor. My eyes darkened and I swallowed hard as my husband stood there, bare-ass naked, purposely taking extra time to pick out his outfit just to torture me.

_Do_ not _attack him. Do_ not _attack him._

I saw Edward's smile widen through my second sight and he continued to slowly push each hanger aside, seeming to examine every damn thread of every damn shirt he owned and still not making a damn decision.

"I'm not being negative, love," he assured me. "I like Bella ... a lot actually. I'm just looking out for you. She's a tough girl with a hard shell. She's not just going to automatically be your best friend. I know how much you want that, and I want you to have it just as much, but it's going to take awhile for it to happen. I just honestly don't have the first clue how you should go about trying to get her to come around. I don't want you to get your hopes up."

Edward was right. I really _did_ want Bella and I to be friends and good ones at that, but I, like him, had no idea how to get that to happen.

"I know she's guarded," I insisted, "and I know it will take some work, but you're forgetting something."

He abandoned his quest for clothes and turned to face me, cocking a questioning eyebrow. My eyes shot down to his groin and a moan nearly escaped my throat. I forced my eyes back to his face.

"I have the puppy dog face," I reminded him, smirking. Considering Edward's state of undress, my sufficient distraction and my suddenly very dry mouth, it was difficult to get the words out in a manner that sounded convincing.

Edward smiled, feigning indifference to my obviously aroused plight. I almost scowled but didn't, managing to retain my sunny disposition by a thread.

"Oh, I could never forget that," he said. "That face is permanently seared in to my brain. It would be even if I wasn't a vampire with perfect recall. It haunts me, in fact, but Bella appears to be remarkably resistant."

"No one can resist the puppy dog face, baby," I said smugly. I'd worked tremendously hard over the years to perfect it ... if deciding to use it and having a vision of the perfect expression counted as hard work, that is.

Edward snorted at that overheard thought. "She may be the first person to knock that back down from law to theory, love."

"We'll see about that," I scoffed lightly.

"I'm just saying," he continued, "don't expect her to let you pick out outfits for her. The rest of us do because we love you, we trust you, and we know you know what we like. You also don't throw away the stuff we buy for ourselves ... _anymore_ ... _after_ the little talk you and I had about boundaries and respecting people's personal tastes ..."

I rolled my eyes. Okay, I could admit that wasn't a nice thing to do, but I was just trying to help. I would never do anything like that again, and grudgingly, I had later come to realize that my family members had decent fashion instincts. Under my tutelage, however, that fashion sense was now beyond fantastic. Even if they hadn't learned, I still wouldn't interfere, but they let me buy 70% of their wardrobes for them now, Jasper being the exception, and I was sure I could persuade Bella to let me do the same for her eventually. I would have to work on Peter and Charlotte in that regard as well.

I had no real feel for Bella's current style since I'd only seen her three times in total, but she didn't appear to be hopeless. We could have so much fun together. I just knew it.

"... Bella isn't there yet. If you want things to go smoothly between the two of you, don't push her."

"I won't," I promised. There was a tinge of defensiveness to my tone that I tried to snuff out before I'd spoken; I was not successful. Edward heard it and came to me, wrapping me in his arms and pressing his naked body against my clothed one.

"It wasn't my intention to upset you, love," he whispered, planting a kiss on the crown of my head. "I'm just trying to protect you."

"I know, and I love you for it," I breathed into his bare chest. He sucked in a sharp breath at the whisper of it against his skin, and I could feel him hardening against my middle. "I know I can get pushy sometimes. I'll try my hardest to tamp it down. Promise to rein me in if I start to get out of control?"

"Of course," he promised earnestly, grinning boyishly at me, "and I love you too."

Though my heart no longer beat, it still felt as though it fluttered in my chest. God, I wanted him, but we were due downstairs to discuss this shopping trip with Bella soon and I needed to rethink my strategy on the whole thing. In addition to my current discussion with Edward, Esme had had a talk with us about it as well. I didn't want to screw things up and my original strategy really had been pushy. I would probably revert to my original plan in spite of whatever alternative I came up with. It wouldn't be intentional - this was fashion, after all. I wouldn't be able to help myself. The only things I loved more were my family and Edward, Edward above all else. He was the only one who could talk sense into me when I got crazy and he would be there, so maybe I wouldn't morph into Fashion Monster Alice and scare Bella half to death after all, and he had just promised to keep me in check. He would have even without my asking.

None of this eased the ache between my thighs. I absolutely _had_ to do something about that.

I pulled slightly away from the security of his embrace and snaked my arms up around his neck, weaving my fingers through his now dry, silky, sex God hair. I used this hold as leverage to slide myself sinuously up his body, teasing his stiffening cock as I did. Edward let out a strange combination of groan, growl and purr at my maneuver; I swallowed it when I pressed my lips to his and plundered his mouth with my tongue. He kissed me back fiercely for a solid minute but when my hand drifted down over those sculpted pecs and abs, he pulled away and put his hand over mine, stopping its descent.

"Ah, ah, ah, Ali, love," he tsked, prying my legs away from where our bodies were so perfectly aligned, and stepping back so there was a foot of space between us.

In the heat of the moment, I had not seen this coming, and I was furious. "What the hell, Edward?"

I could see how much he wanted me ... he was fucking throbbing for me ... and he could both smell and hear how much I wanted him. Yes, I'd had my vision, but I was going to make him say it. If he was going to hold out, the least he could do was man up and explain himself like a normal guy would ... _out loud_.

Edward closed the distance again, brushed my hair from my forehead and cupped my cheek. The adoration on his face and the fiery lust that still shown in his eyes tempered my anger some. Edward had a puppy dog face of his own.

_Damn it!_ How was I supposed to stay mad at that? Oh, right! I was fucking horny!

"You know I want you, love," he said in his velvet voice. "You have no idea how difficult it is for me to stop things now, but you know why I did."

"And _you_ know you have to say it," I responded stubbornly.

Edward chuckled and even that sounded seductive.

_Shit!_

He leaned down and clamped his teeth and lips around my earlobe, laving it with his tongue. When he released it and spoke, his voice a purr in my ear, his breath made my thighs clench together, "If you're a good girl with Bella today, we'll pick this up as soon as we get home, and I won't be finished with you until every last piece of furniture in this room needs to be replaced, until I rip apart every last piece of lingerie you own ... I'll even aim to make your gift go haywire all by myself."

I shivered and my knees buckled a little but Edward's hand shot out to grip my hip and support my weight. It took me a second to get my bearings.

Pull me out of my head for long enough and I became sort of disconnected from my gift. The visions still happened, but I didn't see them until a later time. It was a nice reprieve and I sure as hell loved what it took to get me that way.

A broad grin stretched my lips.

He switched to the other earlobe, sucking it between his lips, nipping it with his teeth. "Think of it as," he paused, nipping again, "extra incentive," he sucked on the sweet spot behind my ear, "or a fail safe."

Then he stepped back and raised his eyebrows challengingly.

_Damn sexy bastard!_

"Bribes are _not_ nice, Edward Cullen, nor are they fair," I growled.

"Maybe not, Alice Cullen, but they _are_ effective," Edward said, smugly. "And you'll never admit it, but you _love_ this bribe."

My eyes narrowed, much more so than they would have normally. I was still pissed at him but he was right on both counts. I wouldn't admit that out loud, even if a verbal admission didn't matter, and I _did_ love this bribe. I saw his smug expression magnify.

_"Would the two of you cut that the fuck out?"_ Jasper's annoyed voice sounded through Edward's gift. Normally, he would have projected to reinforce his ire, but he didn't. He hadn't projected for months and it had both Edward and I worried. We had never been able to claim that we understood Jasper's reasons for some of the things he did though. Despite our concern, we ignored him.

"Is this really how you want to play things, baby?"

Edward nodded evenly.

I had a vision of using the puppy dog face to my advantage but he saw it.

His expression hardened. "Don't you dare!"

"Fine!" I snapped irritably and then propped my hands on my hips, levelling him with a piercing glare. "Now if _this_," I said emphatically, gesturing to how very not naked (in my case) and writhing the two of us were, "is how the rest of the time before we leave for Seattle is going to go, then for God's sake, I don't even care if it matches, just put some damn clothes on!"

Edward only smirked, turned his back to me and paused just long enough to give me a damn nice eyeful of his perfect naked ass before he disappeared back into our closet.

I groaned. This was going to be a very long day but the promise of what was to come would be worth every second.

oOo

**A/N: **There you have it! A little Alice POV. I hope you liked it. Thoughts are always appreciated, especially since I never pictured myself writing a scene like this between E/A. I'm quite happy with how it turned out, I have to say. I think they're cute. :)

Up next: Bella's first day of school.


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer, but her characters are fun to play with so I'm making them do my bidding for the foreseeable future. Jasper as the God of War and Peter 'just knowing shit' are ideas that belong to IDreamofEddy. I do own the plot and original characters of Longing though.

My deepest love and gratitude to Laurie Whitlock and Shelljayz, my betas/pre-readers. I would be lost without you both! :)

... ... ... That's me speechless at the fact that I now have over 500 reviews. It's not the number that matters to me, but the support it represents, and so I am rendered speechless. :)

I must thank the amazing Deebelle1 for her work on the banners for this story. You can find her on Facebook, the link for which I am providing on my profile, and you can take a look at them either there or on my photobucket album for Longing. You really should check them out. They kick ass!

How does Bella deal with her first day of school? We shall see ...

**Chapter 27**

oOo

_Thursday, October 28th, 2080_

BPOV

I had finished building my computer yesterday and it truly was a thing of beauty. It was powerful and perfect and absolutely kickass. The security I had come up with was pretty stellar too. My password encryption was 371 numbers long - a slew of atomic masses of elements from the periodic table strung together in random order, the same biometric security I had programmed into my safe, and a kill switch that would engage under specific circumstances. I was quite proud of the whole shebang.

I had also built a fingerprint scanner. After hacking into IAFIS and CODIS, the national and international databases in which criminal records were digitally filed, including things like fingerprints, and bouncing my secure Wi-Fi signal off probably a thousand different proxy servers and a satellite or two for good measure, I scanned Jane's fingerprints into the system. They were now being compared to every woman who had been arrested and processed into the system for the past thirty-five years, and not just in the States. Who knew if she was a native citizen or even a citizen at all? Now all I could do was wait and see if she was in the system, and there was a good chance she was if one took into account the track marks on her arm. If she wasn't, I would have to think of another way to figure out who she was. It was another bridge I would have to cross when I came to it.

My three days of tedious testing were up, and I was now headed to the school office to see Principal Greene to hear the verdict of which classes I was being placed in. I couldn't say I was looking forward to the experience. If the testing was any indication, I already knew all this shit and high school had never gotten good reviews either from fictional students or real ones, or so I had heard.

I still hadn't managed to rustle up much enthusiasm for mixing with a bunch of teenagers. It was still my general experience, particularly lately, that people sucked, and from what I could tell, teenagers would be exactly that, only preoccupied with and driven by hormones and petty bullshit.

_Sounds _awesome_!_ I thought with a roll of my eyes.

As I walked into the office, I was greeted by a large woman with red hair and brown eyes that looked freakishly huge behind the lenses of her glasses. She smiled at me. "You must be Bella. I'm Mrs. Cope. Head on back to Principal Greene's office," she said, pointing to a door behind her that had a plaque with his name on it. "He's expecting you."

I nodded and did as she directed, making my way passed the front counter and through Principal Greene's door. He looked up as I did, watching as I sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"Hello, Ms. Crawfield," he said.

"Principal Greene," I greeted back.

"I'm going to get right down to business," he began. "Your test scores indicate that your knowledge is more than sufficient for you to attend Forks High."

"Alright."

"Your scores were especially impressive in history, science, and mathematics, so we've placed you in AP U.S. History, Physics, and Calculus," he told me. "Those are twelfth grade classes, Ms. Crawfield, and though the rest of your scores were impressive as well, the rest of your classes are the typical eleventh grade ones - Spanish III, Junior-level English , and physical education."

_Lovely._

I hadn't done any research on how much knowledge a kid my age would have at this point in public education so I winged it, dumbing myself down as much as my pride would let me. Apparently, I had done a decent job.

"Mrs. Cope has your schedule, and she'll give you a map of the school as well," he said. "Good luck, Ms. Crawfield."

It was very possible I would need it.

oOo

JPOV

Today was Bella's first official day of school. She had been here since Monday but all her time had been spent taking placement tests. She had no record of ever attending school and it was another thing we were all curious about but weren't allowed to inquire on. Even if we _were_ allowed, I wouldn't, no matter how curious I was. I didn't want to deal with her attitude and the need to choke her it would inevitably evoke in me.

I was not looking forward to her presence here. Maybe I would only be exposed to her during lunch but my hours at school were the only reprieve I had from being perpetually surrounded by her scent. It would still be present but three hundred some odd other human scents would dilute it enough so that it wouldn't drive me so fuckin' crazy. The other thing that drove me crazy - the nearly permanent hard on every little thing she seemed to do caused and the constant struggle to hide the situation. As banal as high school was, I needed the break, seeing as I couldn't afford to go any crazier than I already was at present. Going to school probably wasn't the best idea for me in my current condition but it wasn't my bloodlust I was struggling with and that made it a little less dangerous. I needed the distraction, and I had Peter and Charlotte to keep me in line. They were in all of my classes along with Emmett and Rosalie, so that was some comfort, and since humans innately stayed away from us, it wasn't likely any of the idiots here would trigger a God of War episode or even a Major one. At least I wouldn't have to deal with Bella being in any of my classes.

Ten minutes into an insanely boring first period history lecture, the very scent I'd been so certain I was going to be able to avoid in its strongest concentration intensified; Bella walked through the door of the classroom, a sheet of paper clutched in her hand. As soon as she made her entrance, every eye was on her. Intrigued and excited whispers filled the air as did insane amounts of lust. A shitload of the guys in the class wanted her and it made me grit my teeth. I did not fuckin' need to feel any more lust toward the girl than I already did.

She made her way to our AP History teacher, Mr. Sumner, and stood before him patiently.

"Can I help you?" he asked, the annoyance he felt at her interruption broadcasting clearly to me even though I was sitting at the back of the room.

_Please God, let that just be a note asking Mr. Sumner to report to the office to pick up paperwork or requesting his presence in Principal Greene's office to be reprimanded for picking his nose in class or jacking off in the staff restroom. Anything but the other thing it could mean,_ I pleaded to myself and my chosen deity of the day, Zeus. Maybe if I prayed hard enough or sacrificed one of my fellow history classmates, he'd grant this request. Either that or strike one of us with a bolt of lightning. At this point, I was okay with either one.

Bella handed him the slip of paper. Mr. Sumner perused it briefly, signed it, and then scanned the classroom before returning his gaze to her. "Welcome to AP U.S. History, Ms. Crawfield. You can take a seat next to Mr. Whitlock."

_You have got to be fuckin' kidding me!_ I glowered, fighting the urge to bang my head against the surface of my desk, and irritated with the part of myself that was happy she would be sitting beside me. I was trying to like her, maybe I even did, a little, but I didn't have to be happy about it. _Fuck you!_

"Uh, which Mr. Whitlock?" she questioned warily.

Mr. Sumner rolled his eyes. The guy was a hardass with no patience but he knew his shit. Of all the high school history teachers I'd had - hell, all of the college ones too - he got the least information wrong, and I liked him. "The only one of your brothers with the surname Whitlock who has a seat available next to him, Ms. Crawfield."

Of course, he knew Bella was living with us. Everybody in this fuckin' town did.

"He's not my brother," she snapped.

"She's not my sister," I growled.

Our declarations were simultaneous, and Rosalie, Emmett, Peter, and Charlotte all turned in their chairs, raising questioning brows at me. I levelled a venomous glare at them and they all faced forward again. Their curiosity wasn't sated and I was sure they would ask me about it later, but I wouldn't answer their questions. I still hadn't told anyone about my rendezvous with Bella in Louisville. It wasn't anyone's business, not before she'd moved in, and especially not after. For starters, I didn't kiss and tell, and now that she was living with us, it would be really fuckin' awkward if anyone else knew about it.

It was our time together in Louisville, the things we'd done in that alley, that made the insinuation of us being brother and sister so damn wrong. The fact that I continually thought about her when my hand was on my cock made it even more so. No, Bella Crawfield was not and never _would_ be my sister. At her similar reaction, I had to wonder if her anger towards me had something to do with what had happened between us in that alley. It wasn't the first time it had crossed my mind, but I wouldn't ask about that either. If that was why she hated me, I didn't want to know because then she might expect me to apologize and I was not going to apologize for that shit, though I should, even if it _would_ get her off my back. I was too stubborn for that and it wasn't fair of her to be wishy washy.

"Brother or not, Ms. Crawfield," Mr. Sumner said, "you'll still be sitting next to him for the duration of the year, and I'd like to see the two of you after class."

"Lovely," Bella grumbled. She was clearly as annoyed with the idea of sitting next to me as I was.

I smirked at her. I did still love to piss her off.

An incredibly tense forty minutes later, during which she had spent more time doodling than taking notes and which I had done my best not to break my pencil into pieces, the bell rang. I let out a sigh of relief as I packed up my things.

"Hey, Bella," Emmett called, "what's your next class?"

"Calculus."

Calculus was another twelfth grade class. Thank God we didn't have that together too. I didn't have that until fifth period.

"Want me to walk you?" he asked with a grin. He sounded confident, like he wouldn't care if she turned him down, but his emotions told a different story. He wanted her to let him so badly he practically ached, which made _me_ ache. I already fuckin' ached, and I wanted to punch him.

Bella cocked her head to the side as she considered this and then her lips turned up the slightest bit in the corners. My still heart jerked in my chest. "Sure, Emmett, but I've got to talk to Sumner first."

Emmett's grin widened at her acceptance, his joy practically bowling me over, and nodded, but Rose scowled, obviously peeved. Her mate saw this. "You don't have to come, babe."

Rose's scowl darkened but I knew she would be going with them despite how much she thought she hated Bella. Over the days since Bella had moved in with us, there had been a couple more cracks in the ice. Said ice was far, far from breaking or melting but cracks of any kind were a fuckin' miracle. Emmett's hands shot up in a gesture of surrender in an effort to appease her, and he swapped out his current grin for his most charming and boyish one. It worked ... partially.

Bella and I made our way up to Mr. Sumner, and Emmett rested casually against a desk at the front not far away. Peter, Charlotte, and Rose waited for us just outside the classroom.

Mr. Sumner looked up from the notes he was studying to regard us. "Ah, Mr. Whitlock, Ms. Crawfield. I have decided to assign the two of you as study partners."

"What? Why would you do that?" I demanded. _Fuckin' hell!_

"Ms. Crawfield may have scored high enough to land herself in a senior level, advanced placement class, but she has still missed nearly two months of the curriculum. You, Mr. Whitlock," he said, "are my best student, and since the two of you live together it makes sense that you should be the one to catch her up, does it not?"

"I don't need Jasper's help to catch up, sir," Bella said calmly, but her jaw was tense.

At the sound of my name rolling off her tongue, venom rushed to my dick and my own jaw tensed. As difficult as it had been being in such close proximity to her for the past forty minutes, I had managed to remain relatively boner free. It was a record I wanted to continue to break. The unending blue balls were getting seriously fuckin' old. Granted that wasn't a state I was unfamiliar with given my gift and the mated couples I lived with, but I hadn't jacked off nearly as much since Bella moved in. It felt awkward to me. I also hadn't gone to see Kate since August, which I usually did to relieve my sexual tension every couple weeks. That didn't feel right either. I couldn't for the life of me figure out why.

"Whether you need his help or not," Mr. Sumner said evenly, "you're still going to get it, and the two of you will be completing joint assignments to prove to me that you are, in fact, working together." He turned his focus to me. "Helping Ms. Crawfield is now worth 10% of your grade for this semester, Mr. Whitlock. However, I will also grant you extracurricular and community service hours to put on your college application for doing it."

_Wonderful,_ I griped in my head. Out loud I said, "Yes, sir," and gave him a tight smile, just barely restraining myself from giving him a sarcastic and very disrespectful salute.

Bella did the same and then turned and made her way to Emmett. He grabbed the strap of her messenger bag and slung it over his shoulder, which earned him an exasperated scowl that he pretended not to notice. She made no move to take the bag back though, which only thrilled Em more.

"To Calculus we go, milady," he said in a purposely awful British accent. As vampires we could mimic any accent perfectly if we so chose. He offered her his arm but she didn't take it. She still didn't like being touched, but I hadn't expected that to change. I had been struggling with that shit for well over one hundred years and it hadn't gotten much easier. I suddenly wondered if she would let me touch her again and if she did, would she have the same reaction she'd had the last time?

I shuddered or shivered. I couldn't truthfully tell which because it didn't matter. Bella was still off limits. She was human, I was a fuckin' mess, and any kind of relationship between us would be a disaster. Then there was the little matter of her hating me and the fact that I didn't want her. Alright, so my dick wanted her and steadfastly ignored all the text messages my brain sent reiterating all the reasons Bella and I being together in that way was a bad idea, one of which was that I didn't do relationships. Since those texts were from my brain, _it_ obviously did not want her, and that was the only reason I hadn't listened to my dick and pinned her to a wall, finishing what I'd started in that alley in Louisville. Seriously, the blue balls really were killing me and the constant sex in the house wasn't helping _at all_. If I kept hunting at the rate I'd been for the last week, I was going to kill off an entire Pacific Northwest ecosystem in a month tops.

As I watched Emmett, Bella, and Rose walk off down the hallway toward the Calculus classroom, my heart tugging a little after them, I realized I had a decision to make. I could choose to be a surly bastard about our history study-buddy situation or I could make an opportunity out of it. We would be forced to spend time together to complete our joint assignments, and I could use that time to be the most charming son of a bitch I could be. I wouldn't dazzle her because that wasn't ethical, and I wasn't that much of a prick. The sick feeling I got at the thought of her liking me just because of some vampire voodoo trick was not alluring in the least. I wanted her to like me because she liked _me_.

_Why is it so goddamn important to you that she likes you?_ I wondered irritably, insanely glad I wasn't projecting and making my brother and sister privy to my internal chaos. _It's not! You promised Carlisle you would try. That's all this is._

I would use our time together wisely. I would show her I wasn't a complete asshole because, well, I kind of _was_ an asshole. I knew I was, but I wasn't _always_ an asshole, and I could show her that. I _would_ show her that. If I could convince her I wasn't as evil as she seemed to think I was, it would make things a hell of a lot easier on both of us, on everyone, in the long run. I liked the banter between us, the challenge, the back and forth. I loved it actually, despite how annoying it could be. It kept me on my toes, gave me something to focus on besides the fact that I was losing my shit, but I was really fuckin' tired of the hostility. Maybe it did give me something else to focus on, but hostility still wasn't good for me or anyone else around me at the moment, and I really wanted all this to work out.

I wanted Emmett and Alice to have the new sister that made them so damn happy. I wanted Esme and Carlisle to have the new daughter they so clearly loved, and for Carlisle to continue to feel at peace after so many weeks of debilitating grief.

I knew he had reasons for wanting Bella to live with us that he hadn't shared, that he never _intended_ on sharing, and I hadn't questioned him about it because I knew that Carlisle was a pure soul with pure emotions and intentions. It was true that he hadn't been entirely forthcoming in all of his motivations for it but he hadn't been lying about the things he _had_ shared. That didn't mean I wasn't curious about it, but I knew those reasons didn't pose a threat to the family. Carlisle wouldn't have made the proposition if they did, no matter how much he cared about Bella. I trusted him, so I would leave it alone … unless it began to appear otherwise.

Edward was fond of Bella as well, though not quite as ecstatic about her as the others, and his affection for her grew every moment he or Alice spent time with her, so I wanted him happy too.

I wanted them all happy for their sake but I also wanted it for selfish reasons. The happier they were, the more I could soak that up, and that would help ground me. When I was on the verge of a God of War meltdown, I was almost impervious to the effect of positive emotions, but they _did_ help some and I needed that.

Both Peter and Charlotte were conflicted over her. They were curious about her, intrigued, but suspicious and wary, and I knew it was because they had noticed how she affected me. Maybe they weren't sure how exactly she was affecting me, but they knew she was, and they knew I was a fuckin' powder keg. They wanted to like her but were hesitant to, even though they were certain she wouldn't be the match that caused me to blow. My first brother and sister hadn't said this outright, but they didn't need to. I knew them well enough for them not to have to say the words, and the fact that they had always been there to stop me from leaving every time I had seriously considered it before Bella had shown back up in Forks to move in was confirmation I didn't need. Peter's certainty that I wouldn't hurt her hadn't wavered and as much as I sometimes questioned his conviction, my faith in him and his gift still remained in tact.

No, Peter and Charlotte wanted to like her because there were moments when it was impossible not to, even though the rest of the time she was annoying as fuck. I did think they were hesitant solely for my sake. No matter the rapport they had with my adoptive family, they had moved to Forks for me; and while I didn't require them to agree with everything I said, did, or felt, their loyalty to me was astounding. They may have liked her, or _wanted_ to at least, but at the moment she didn't matter to them much. Oh, she mattered much more than the average human, they even felt protective of her to a degree, but their relationship with me was their priority, and given that she was currently treating me like shit she'd scraped off the bottom of her shoe … well, that was dragging out the process of endearing her to them.

As for me, I was even more conflicted than they were but I couldn't deny that now that she was here, I didn't want her to go. She was still frustrating and confusing as all hell, I still didn't want her blood on my hands, but I just didn't want her to go. I didn't necessarily want to be around her either, but I could no longer imagine my life without her in it, so I would be that charming son of a bitch and try to win her over … for my sake and everyone else's.

As she and my brother and sister became smaller and smaller with the distance, I couldn't help but note how much I still didn't like watching her walk away from me.

_You are a fuckin' contradiction, my friend,_ a voice that sounded suspiciously like the Major echoed in my head. _You really should make up your damn mind._

_How about you go fuck yourself, douche?_ I growled.

oOo

BPOV

Jasper Whitlock was the bane of my existence ... well, the other bane of my existence. Project Apotheosis still took the cake on that, but at the moment, he was a huge fucking thorn in my side.

He had nearly succeeded in getting me to trust him and then betrayed me. He had gotten me arrested and basically alerted the people I'd spent the last five years running from to my whereabouts. He made me feel things I had no business feeling. I was angry with him. He was annoying, cocky, smug, he confused the hell out of me, he was way too hot - more than any guy had a right to be, and he knew exactly how to push all my buttons. I hated him. I wanted to stab him in the fucking neck ... most of the time. I should have wanted to stab him in the neck _all_ the time. Why didn't I want to stab him _all_ the time? Why didn't I hate him _all_ the time? My hatred should have been cut and dried, but it wasn't.

The thing was I knew why I didn't hate him all the time. I remembered our time in Louisville, how conflicted he had been when he'd had me pressed up against that wall, how he had tried to give me a way out of losing my virginity to him in case I wasn't sure. I didn't know anything about boys, or men since the more time I spent with him, the more the word 'boy' seemed inadequate to describe him. As much as I believed that I wasn't wrong about his part in my near demise, I wasn't certain it was possible to fake the emotion in his eyes, and that emotion hadn't changed. That sadness and the haunted quality had not left them. If anything, they had intensified, and I again found myself desperately curious about what had put it there.

Then there were the things I had seen in the days since I'd moved in. I had replayed the popcorn war more times than I cared to admit, envisioning his face and playful demeanor. I thought about his reaction when I'd announced that I was going to buy my car in La Push. I now realized, in looking back, that there had been concern mixed in with his fury, and I certainly couldn't get the look on his face when I'd returned out of my head. He had noticed my slip of emotion, had even seemed to understand it. Unbeknownst to him, he'd given me comfort. He may not have known it or even intended to bring me peace but he had, and I couldn't ignore that or forget it. After that it was what I had seen and heard of his interaction with Alice.

I had taken a break from my computer engineering endeavour to grab a snack and their voices had caught my attention. I hadn't been able to resist eavesdropping, watching as much as I could without revealing myself and getting caught.

_Creepy boundary issues much, Bella?_ I sighed, exasperated with myself. I guess I just wanted to understand him. Honestly, I wanted to understand them all.

Jasper had grumbled and cursed and snarked and snapped, but he had still done what Alice asked of him; and even though his voice had been sarcastic and annoyed, there had been an undercurrent of love and affection there that was undeniable even to me ... the girl who knew very little about love and affection. I also hadn't failed to notice the way he had tensed when Alice hugged him. That made me empathize with him, and I didn't _want_ to empathize with him.

All of this had me conflicted and conflicted was another thing I didn't want to be. Well, I didn't want to be _more_ conflicted because it was impossible for me not to be after everything that had happened in the last weeks. At least I was normal in that respect, I guess.

My feelings for him were supposed to be simple. He had done something unforgivable. I was supposed to hate him for it ... simple. And yet I found myself on occasion revisiting my musings from just after the popcorn war, wondering if I had somehow gotten things wrong. I just didn't see how I could have. Then sometimes when I didn't doubt his guilt, I found myself considering it, forgiving him, and that wasn't an option. One did not forgive betrayal, especially not someone like me to whom it was so dangerous.

I had been avoiding him as much as possible in part because of this. The rest of it still had to do with controlling my urge to stab him in the neck but knowing I couldn't out of respect for Dr. Cullen. Most of the time, my hatred was still steadfast and I had been looking forward to school. Jasper and I would be in the same building, yes, but there would be more than three hundred people to separate us instead of only eight. Since I was technically the age of a junior and he was a senior, the likelihood I would have to deal with him more than at lunch, during which I could easily continue to avoid him, or the odd hallway encounter was slim. I liked those odds. They were far better than being in an enclosed space with him because, as big as the Cullen house was, the high school was bigger, and I wouldn't have to smell him or hear his voice or his rare laugh. Even if he was gone quite a bit, sometimes at all hours of the night, those things still lingered, and they affected me in ways I did not like … or maybe it was that I liked them too much. That was not good, and it scared me.

I had thought I'd done a decent job of testing at a high school level. I had overshot a bit, and I had been okay with that ... until I walked into history and all the hopes I'd had of avoiding Jasper had been dashed. It had been even worse when my douchey teacher had made me sit by him. Even at the house I could manage to keep myself out of his touching range, but now I was sitting fucking inches, _inches_, from him. It had set my teeth on edge. For thirty of the forty minutes I'd had to endure his close proximity, it was very difficult to resist the urge to bury my pen in his carotid artery. It was the other ten minutes that really bugged me though because I had spent those minutes trying desperately not to give into my desire to lick him.

_There is something seriously wrong with you, Bella._ I already knew this but at least it was good to know that it hadn't been blood leaking out of my ears all this time. It was my actual brain.

Alright, so maybe it wasn't that unusual for me to have that reaction to him. I _was_ seventeen after all, and he _was_ very good looking. Truthfully, licking him was something I'd been thinking about since the alley, much to my irritation. I was just curious if he tasted as good as he smelled. That, of course, pissed me off to no end and frustrated me too ... in more ways than one.

That was exactly why I never touched myself. If I didn't know what I was missing, then I would go a little less crazy when I got horny. That was the theory anyway. It still resulted in some serious sexual frustration at times, but now? Even though Jasper hadn't finished me off, and I had yet to experience an actual orgasm, my frustration was a million times worse. I still refused to do anything about it though. That was a can of worms I was not willing to open. That didn't stop me from wondering whether or not his touch would make my skin crawl after everything.

Needless to say, our history study-buddy situation sucked ass. I would have to weasel my way out of it somehow if I could.

I was now on my way to my first cafeteria lunch as a high school student. Forks High split their lunch time into two separate periods: one after third period and one after fourth. This school may not have had the biggest student population, but the cafeteria wasn't huge, certainly not big enough to hold all the students at once; therefore, the Juniors and Seniors had their lunch after third while the Freshman and Sophomores had theirs after fourth.

Two of the kids in my third period Spanish class, Jessica Stanley and Mike Newton, had invited me to sit with them, and I agreed. Jessica was 5'1" with straight brown hair and blue eyes. She acted as though she liked me but there was a false air about her I didn't particularly like. That was okay though because I had expected this and my perspective on the making of friends hadn't changed, though Alice and Emmett were slowly but surely testing my resolve on that decision. Mike stood at 5'11" with blonde hair and blue eyes. He was eager, enthusiastic, apparently popular, and played football. As we walked, me awkwardly sandwiched between the two, I studied them. Mike kept casting covert glances at Jessica when she wasn't looking, and Jessica was eyeing him longingly out of the corner of her eye.

_Hmmm._

The Cullens hadn't mentioned anything about lunch seating arrangements so I didn't feel bad about sitting with other people. I needed a little space from them anyway. Besides, I figured it would do me some good to mingle with the gen. pop., the typical teenage students. The Cullens may have tried to appear normal but they weren't. My opinion on that had only solidified more since I had moved in with them. Normal was still something I was shooting for, so sitting with them was out. Not all the time, but definitely today.

Emmett and Alice waved to get my attention, but I pointed to Mike and Jessica and shrugged. Both of them looked disappointed, and suddenly I _did_ feel guilty. Rosalie, having seen what I'm sure she perceived as my rejection of Emmett, glared at me. She truly loved her teddy bear of a boyfriend, I had to give her that. Edward's expression bordered on understanding but the majority of his attention was centered on erasing the disheartened look on Alice's face. Peter and Charlotte watched me curiously, but Jasper kept his attention resolutely anywhere but on me, spine stiff as a board. I did not care.

I never had liked being in big crowds. I had never really been exposed to them until I escaped but I had gotten over that. In this case, it had more to do with volume. I had long ago learned to muffle my hearing to a tolerable level, i.e., focusing it just on immediate conversations and such, and sharpening it when needed, but being in an enclosed space with 150-odd people was still hard on my ears. It took me a second to adjust, but I did so quickly before studying the cafeteria layout. I needed to map out the place, determine all the possible escape routes and any resources I might be able to use to aid in an escape should I have to use one of those routes. It was something I did with every room I walked into and every new place I went. It was an automatic impulse, one I was hardly aware of anymore, but it registered this time and it exhausted me.

After my strategic analysis was complete only a handful of seconds later, I jumped in line to grab some food. The cafeteria offerings didn't look all that appetizing, but I piled my plate high anyway. When I wasn't in hibernation mode, I burned through calories like a runaway freight train, so nasty food or no, I had to eat it. I'd had enough of hibernation to last me a lifetime.

I followed Mike and Jessica to their seemingly regular table. Mike initially insisted that I sit between them. I wasn't sure why he would want to sit next to me when he clearly had a thing for Jessica. I hoped he wasn't planning on using me to make her jealous or that he wasn't a Connor Jameson type looking to add another notch to his bedpost.

_God, I hope I'm not walking into a soap opera,_ I thought to myself and then nearly snorted. My internal voice turned sarcastic, _You're already living a fucking science fiction novel, Bella. Why not a soap opera too?_

Before I gave him my answer, I subtly shifted Jessica in his direction so that her sitting next to him was unavoidable, shrugging as Jessica took her place at his side as my response. Mike didn't seem to notice my covert manipulation, he seemed quite happy with the result actually, but Jessica did and her eyebrows furrowed momentarily as she gave me a bemused smile. I just stared innocently back at her as I took the seat at the foot of the table, which was next to her. It minimized the possibility of touching and my back was facing the exit so, while it wasn't the closest table to it, it was the best I could do. Jessica continued to study me, presumably trying to figure out whatever game I was playing, provided she was smart enough to think in those terms, but her attention snapped to Mike as soon as he spoke.

"Bella, meet Tyler Crowley," he said, gesturing to an African-American guy with black, curly hair and brown eyes, "Eric Yorkie," an Asian guy with black hair and brown eyes, "Ben Cheney," another Asian guy with a similar hair and eye color as Eric, "Angela Weber," an obviously tall girl even sitting down with dark brown hair, kind brown eyes and glasses. If I was going to be friends with any of these people it would be her. The last person at the table was another girl with white blonde hair and green eyes that had a coldness to them I _definitely_ didn't like. "And Lauren Mallory."

Each teen greeted me with a smile, the exception being Lauren.

"So you're the newest Cullen kid," Eric said, sounding excited and intrigued.

"My last name is Crawfield so I am clearly _not_ a Cullen but, yes, I do live with them," I responded evenly.

"None of the Cullen kids are _actually_ Cullens," Jessica said offhandedly. She leaned forward on her elbows and turned toward me, her eyes bright, all previous suspicion apparently forgotten. She was practically salivating, reminding me of a dog drooling over a piece of raw meat, and I knew all the unavoidable gossipy questions were about to begin. "What's it like?"

"What's what like?" I asked, deciding to put this off for as long as I could by playing dumb.

"Living with the Cullens," she clarified impatiently.

I turned my lips down into a fake frown. "Do you not know them?"

I already knew that she didn't, that none of them did. Everyone in town really only knew _of_ the Cullens, they didn't really know _them_. They were all almost considered reclusive.

"Would she be asking you if she did?" Lauren snapped.

My eyes narrowed. "What exactly are you hoping to hear me say?" I asked, my tone just on the edge of heated as I unexpectedly lost my patience. I was feeling protective of the Cullens again and even though I didn't really have a reason to be angry with these people, I found that I was getting that way. "That Emmett takes baths in peanut butter? That Alice's skin is so perfect because she goes to sleep at night with banana pudding on her face? That Rosalie is always scowling because she shoves hot peppers up her ass or that Edward is a closet _World of Warcraft_ fanatic? Maybe you want to hear that Peter and Charlotte are actually brother and sister and that their relationship is all kinds of incestuous or that on the weekends Jasper walks around in nothing but a pair of cowboy boots? All of that is complete bullshit," I said sharply, "and if you actually think I'm going to give you legitimate dirt on them, you've got another thing coming. They're good people and there's nothing _to_ tell, so I suggest you find something else to ask me about."

Jessica's eyes widened comically, her tone apologetic and awkward when she said, "I'm sorry! I was just curious."

I knew she meant it, but I was still irked. Despite this, my only response was a noncommittal shrug. The others were shocked at my outburst, but I didn't care.

"They really do sound like very good people," Angela spoke up quietly, her expression also apologetic but approving. Then she gave me a smile just as kind as her eyes were.

My irritation ebbed, and I smiled back at her.

"Please tell me that last part about Jasper wasn't bullshit," Jessica begged, her expression turning suggestive. Mike frowned down at his sandwich and the rest of the guys looked dispirited.

I rolled my eyes. "It was and is complete and utter bullshit."

She pouted. "Well, I certainly wouldn't mind if they adopted _me_," she said. If that was her attempt at saving face it was a poor one. "Maybe you could put in a good word for me."

"Your parents would probably have something to say about that," I told her, "and the Cullens didn't adopt me."

"Why would they?" Lauren chimed in, her tone snide. "I mean look at _them_," she sneered, gesturing toward the Cullens' table, "and look at _you_."

_Hello, Bella. My name is petty bullshit. It's nice to meet you._

My assumptions of high school had just been proven correct. Now, how to deal with it …

"You're right. I don't belong there," I agreed, catching her off guard. "All this," I continued, sweeping my hand to indicate the room at large, "is only temporary. The Cullens don't have any intention of adopting me. They only took me in for one reason."

"Which is?" Mike prompted.

I sighed dramatically. "I really didn't want to discuss this. It's private but in a town as small as Forks, I suppose it's inevitable that it'll come out. It's probably better that you hear it from me. That way when it does inevitably surface, the rumor mill won't go crazy with details that aren't true."

I paused, waiting. They were all staring at me, wide-eyed, just the way I'd intended.

Jessica was the first to respond though it had been a race between all but the quieter ones at the table. Angela and Ben were interested to be sure but they were being more respectful about it.

"Discuss what?" she asked, trying to sound concerned rather than morbidly curious. She didn't succeed.

I bit my lip and dropped my eyes to my lap, pausing again for effect. After a few seconds, I brought my gaze back up but didn't look at any of them; instead focusing my gaze on a spot on the wall across the room. "I'm sick."

My skin started to tingle right after I said it, and I knew that Jasper was now watching me, though I wasn't sure why he suspiciously chose now to go all creepy stalker on me. I didn't look at him, or any of the Cullens, just continued staring at my chosen spot on the wall and tried to remain unaffected by it.

"You are?" Eric asked. Though I still felt Jasper's eyes on me, Eric's voice brought my focus back to where it needed to be.

I looked at him briefly and then stared at the table in front of me, picking up my fork and starting to poke at the salad on my tray. "Yes," I told him. "It's … advanced," I choked out. "My parents, they couldn't handle it anymore. They knew they couldn't take care of me so they contacted Dr. Cullen. He's very well-versed in my condition, and he'd consulted on my case before. They knew he would be able to take care of me, and he's researching a cure. We're all hoping he'll find one before it's too late."

"You don't look sick to me," Lauren said, folding her arms across her chest.

I met her eyes, trying to look sad. "I know," I admitted. "I go through periods where I seem fine but, for the most part, my quality of life is horrible. My parents just couldn't watch it anymore, so they sent me away."

Mike, Tyler, Angela, Ben, Jessica, and even Lauren were all listening with rapt attention, hanging on my every word, and I almost smiled.

"What's wrong with you?" Tyler asked worriedly. What I didn't understand was that everything about his face and voice were genuine. Unless he was a _really_ good liar, he actually cared.

"It's awful, really," I began. "The joints in my middle fingers lock up," I met Lauren's eyes, extending said fingers and clearly directing them at her, "it sends shooting pains up my arms and all throughout my body. It's debilitating." I winced theatrically. "The pain only lasts a few minutes but even when it's gone, my joints just won't unlock," I said, using my right index finger to "try" to get my left middle one to retract down into my palm. "They stay like this for hours," I continued, tucking my pointer finger down into my fist and waving my middle fingers around to emphasize. "You can't take me anywhere," I sighed sadly. "It's awkward and embarrassing, and there's _nothing_ I can do about it. It has to go away on its own," I said, twisting my face into a pained expression for a moment before I let my features turn smug. "It's called fuck-you-itis," I informed them, still focusing my gaze on Lauren. "Surely such a charming and loveable girl as yourself knows all about it. You must have met dozens of people with it by now. I mean you _do_ seem to draw out the symptoms," I smirked. "That being the case, if this little exchange is any indication, I will be having many flare ups and our relationship from here on out is going to be one giant 'fuck you.'"

Tyler, Mike, and Eric's fists all flew to cup their mouths, and choruses of harmonized "Oohhhs!" left their lips. Angela's own hand slapped over her mouth, her eyes wide, while Ben's lips had curled up just the slightest bit as he looked away. Jessica was in shock, her face blank, as if she had no idea what to do with herself.

Lauren's mouth dropped open in disbelief and then snapped shut, teeth clanging together audibly. Her eyes were furious and fiery, but I didn't give a fuck.

oOo

JPOV

It was lunchtime and Bella wasn't sitting with us; instead deciding in favor of Mike Newton, Jessica Stanley, and the rest of the Junior idiots at their table. The only person even remotely tolerable was Angela Weber. If it wouldn't have seemed like a creepy stalker thing to do, I would hover around her like a fly on shit. Her emotions were gentle, kind, and pure though there were times when they were fiery, passionate, and luminous, radiating out of her like a warm beam of sunlight. She had a quiet strength about her that reminded me of Carlisle, and a steely, understated quality to her that was rare in a teenager. I liked her and her emotions brought me peace with just a little spice. It was a good combination that I appreciated, and I had always thought that if she found the right friend to nurture that hidden fiery side, she could finally step out of her idiot friends' shadows, stick up for herself and shine the way she should. Ben wasn't bad but he was bland, unexceptional and not really worth the time for my consideration.

I thought I would feel relieved for the separation from Bella, and I was, to a certain degree, but I was also annoyed. I was getting really fuckin' tired of being constantly annoyed but that was another thing that came with the territory of being on the verge of a God of War meltdown.

After I piled a bunch of shit onto a tray, a.k.a. Forks High School's cafeteria food, I trudged to our usual table and took a seat perpendicular to hers. It wasn't my usual spot but I felt the need to keep an eye on Bella, even if it was only out of the corner of it. I hadn't forgotten her demeanor in the bar, how uneasy it made her not to be able to devote all her attention to watching her back. When she entered the room, she'd been just as observant as she had at The Finish Line, scanning it astutely before making her own way to the lunch line. The Idiot Table was in the center of the room so she wouldn't be able to sit very close to an exit, and my instincts and previous observations told me that she would have preferred a spot closer to one. I almost wanted to say that it was something a soldier might do, but that was a ridiculous idea, so I dismissed it with barely a glancing thought. That meant I still wondered about her uncanny awareness in addition to everything else but, again, I wasn't allowed to ask. Instead, I was going to compensate for any of the attention she would have to sacrifice because of her position as I had before. It was still a compulsion I couldn't explain, but I couldn't focus on that. Not only because I didn't want to but because of how strong the disappointment radiating off Em and Alice was. It didn't help that Rose was pissed and Edward was torn between his own disappointment, an odd understanding, and a sadness that miffed me. Peter and Charlotte's emotions were unreadable and that I was thankful for.

Bella's defense of us was a surprise, to say the least. None of us had been expecting it. Emmett and Alice hadn't even been able to predict that unforeseen loyalty and they were the ones with the most faith in her. She'd been making a concerted effort to abide the deal she'd made with Carlisle, and she'd had her moments of seeming reconsideration, but she was still rather apathetic towards everyone but me. As far as she was concerned, I was the world's hugest douchebag, which was what made it even more shocking when she included me in her tirade. It made us all feel pretty fuckin' great when she'd shown such loyalty and protectiveness.

Lauren Mallory was a fuckin' bitch and any positive feelings I may have felt in the wake of Bella's defense died when she opened her mouth. In a lot of ways she was just a lost, insecure teenager like so many others her age, but there was also a nastiness to her that made me uncomfortable. Negative emotions were not good for my state of mind, and the amount of lust that poured off of her when she looked at me made my skin crawl. It wasn't something that was unusual. I got that reaction from many humans and vampires alike, and it wasn't that Lauren wasn't a pretty girl. By human standards, she was probably considered beautiful even, and there were times when I could appreciate a decent looking woman with a heartbeat. I was a man, not a fuckin' monk, but Lauren didn't do it for me, and she didn't seem to understand that I wasn't interested.

Unlike most human girls, who cowered and got a goddamn clue when I very firmly turned them down, she kept coming back. It wasn't necessarily incessant, happening every couple of months, but considering what I was, it made her the definition of "brain dead blonde." I could possibly have dealt with that and not held it against her given the circumstances, but the way she took her insecurities out on others pissed me off and made that impossible. I didn't much care about humans or their feelings, but in light of the man I had been for the first century of my life as a vampire, shit like that fuckin' bugged me.

Needless to say, I had been beyond angry when she insulted Bella, insinuating that she wasn't worthy of us. Bella was a beautiful girl, so beautiful I sometimes couldn't bear to look at her, and she was worthy of us. If anything, we were not worthy of her. It was another thing about her I knew for certain despite the things I did not. In that moment, Lauren reminded me very much of Harpy Bitch and it was _her_ neck I wanted to snap. I wasn't the only one angered by Lauren's comment either. Emmett and Alice were appropriately enraged over the slight to their new sister. Edward felt disdain toward the girl whose thoughts perpetually disturbed him. Peter and Charlotte were also angry and feeling very protective. Even Rose was pissed off, though I suspected it was more of an "I'm the only one who can fuck with Bella" kind of thing. Of course, I knew there was a little more to it than that, but I wasn't about to open my mouth. I wasn't stupid … not in regard to Rose, at least.

I was genuinely curious as to how Bella intended to handle the situation. After her confrontation with Rose and the way she'd handled both Harpy Bitch and I in Louisville, I was sure it was going to be good.

My rage had been exacerbated to an almost unbearable level when Bella agreed with Lauren, my vision going red around the edges. In hindsight, I believe if I'd been able to project, the strength and force of it would have incited a massacre. Hell, I would have started the massacre; it wouldn't have been the first time. I wanted to stride up to her and shake her, slap her maybe, until she understood that she was wrong and took it back.

_Contradiction!_ the voice in my head, the one that sounded like the Major, sing-songed, dragging the word out so that it grated on my brain.

I scowled at the sound, not in the mood for a voice inside my head, a voice that essentially belonged to me and yet did not, to goad me. _Fuck. Off!_

My anger disappeared altogether when Bella told all the occupants of the Idiot Table that she was sick. My stomach bottomed out and I once again felt like I couldn't breathe. Was this the unnamed reason for Carlisle wanting Bella to move in? Was she dying? I hadn't smelled the scent of disease on her, but I was no doctor. I wasn't one of the family who'd attended medical school. I didn't know what every disease smelled like. What was wrong with her? What had I missed? Why did the thought of something happening to her, something so permanent, so mortal, so _human_, make my heart leap into my throat? Humans died every day. It was natural, normal, so why was I _afraid_ for her?

My mind raced with these questions, utterly consumed by them, and I only half-heard the next bits of conversation until Tyler Crowley finally asked what was wrong with her. Then my ears perked back up and my attention was riveted back onto the conversation. When Bella revealed that she was suffering from fuck-you-itis, I just about died both from relief and hilarity. Would she never stop surprising me?

Everyone at our table, all privy to Bella's conversation and who all had been just as worried as I was, started howling with laughter, especially after having observed Lauren's reaction to Bella's counterstrike. Even Rosalie was chuckling because, whether or not she liked her, that shit was funny as hell and one could not be married to Emmett McCarty Cullen for almost a century and a half without learning to appreciate humor.

At the sound of our mirth, Bella's eyes moved to us, taking in our laughing faces, and I couldn't help but wonder what was going through her head as they took on a thoughtful sheen and a slight air of suspicion that quickly faded into indifference before she returned her attention back to the Idiot Table.

Soon after this, Lauren Mallory pushed herself up from her chair, grabbed her tray, threw her lunch in the trash, tray and all, and stormed out of the cafeteria. I focused my gift on her as she passed by our table, noting the fury that writhed within her, the hot embarrassment and humiliation, the jealousy and some heartbreak. I did not give a fuck. Even if I gave a shit about humans and their feelings, I would not have given a fuck.

Bella ate the rest of her lunch without much visible emotion. She wasn't smug or arrogant or superior. She didn't even exude a particular air of satisfaction. She had done what she set out to do and that was the end of it for her or so it seemed. It was another thing I could put on the list of things I respected and admired about her.

_That girl is formidable, Jasper,_ that grating voice said. _You should like her more than you do._

I gritted my teeth. _Fuck. Off!_

I could not wait until school was over so I could bail and go hunting again. The first obstacle in the way of this desire … Physics.

oOo

As luck would fuckin' have it, Bella was also in my, _our_, fourth period physics class.

Our teacher, Mr. Salerno-White, looked up from signing the sheet of paper Bella would have to return to the office at the end of the day and weighed and measured his options as to where he could seat her. Luckily, she could not sit next to me in this class as I already had a lab partner. Her name was Marybeth Juliani, and she had once entertained the hope that she and I might eventually bump uglies, but I had nipped that in the bud very early on. It was such a burden being the only single Cullen sometimes.

"Take a seat next to Mr. Dwyer, Ms. Crawfield."

_Really?_

Bella's lab table was directly across the aisle from mine. There may not have been only inches between us this time, but I didn't see how two feet was any better. I had done a shitload of reprehensible things in my long life. I guess I was finally getting my comeuppance for it all.

Bella took a seat on her stool and dumped her messenger bag onto the floor. As she did this, the guy next to her turned to face her, held out his hand and smiled, "Hi, I'm Riley."

Bella hesitantly took it after a few moments hesitation, her expression remaining neutral. "Bella."

_You do not give a shit that she is sitting next to Riley fuckin' Dwyer!_ I growled internally, nearly growling aloud when their hands touched and only avoiding doing so because she pulled it out of his grasp before it escaped.

_Contradiction!_ the other voice sounded.

_Fuck. Off!_

Riley Dwyer was 6'3" with dark blonde hair and blue eyes. He was the quarterback and captain of the football team, primed to lead Forks High at least as far as the playoffs this year, the captain and all-star shortstop of the baseball team and was hands down the most popular guy in school. He was the most sought after guy in the place, the most good-looking outside of the males in my family. We were the unattainable dream. Riley was a slightly less unobtainable dream without that "I'm going to eat you" vibe, which made him the not-so-secret crush of most of the females at this school. The guy had never bothered me, I could even go so far as to say he was a decent human being. He was an A student, he was nice to his friends and the girls he dated, and he treated his parents with respect. He walked the halls of Forks High with pride but no arrogance or boastfulness, and despite his athletic talents, he was distinctly lacking a superiority complex. I was by no means a member of the Riley Dwyer fan club, but I didn't hate the guy. That didn't mean I fuckin' liked the way he was looking at Bella.

_Fucker!_

"I know who you are," Riley said with a grin. "In a town like Forks, everyone knows everyone, and after your little coup in the cafeteria …"

Yes, almost everyone knew about that already. Everyone would by the end of the hour. Gossip traveled fast here.

Bella dropped her gaze to the notebook she'd pulled from her messenger bag, tapping her pen against the blank sheet of paper she'd opened it to. Mr. Salerno-White was preparing a PowerPoint presentation for the lecture and talking was currently allowed. Once the lecture started though, all bets were off. He was just as much of a hardass as Mr. Sumner.

"Right, that," Bella said in disinterest, still tap, tap, tapping her pen.

"You're going to be a legend for that, you know," Riley informed her.

"I'm not interested in being a legend," Bella responded, an edge to her tone that hadn't been there before.

"Doesn't matter," he said. "You're still going to be. Lauren Mallory is the Queen Bee of the Junior class. No one stands up to her," his tone was matter-of-fact. "How are you liking Forks so far?"

"It's fine," she answered. "No better or worse than anywhere else, I suppose."

Riley snorted. "You clearly haven't lived in very many places."

Bella let out a semi-humorless chuckle. "Dwyer?" she asked, changing the subject and raising a brow at him. Riley nodded. "As in Police Chief Dwyer's kid?"

His smile widened. "Guilty. My mom, Renée, is the kindergarten teacher at Forks Elementary."

"Ahh," Bella said with a nod of her own. "Does it suck having the king L.E.O. riding your ass all the time?"

Riley shrugged. "Nah," he answered. "I keep my nose clean because of football and baseball, and dad's not too much of a slave driver. He's only strict when he needs to be, but the man's got a sixth sense. I may not get myself into too much trouble, but when I even contemplate it, he knows it practically before I do. It's disturbing."

"That's a good quality to have as a Chief of Police," she pointed out.

"True," Riley agreed. "So, I guess we're going to be spending a lot of time together since we're lab partners and all."

"Yeah," Bella said, returning her attention to her notebook as Mr. Salerno-White called class to order, shut off the lights, and delved into the PowerPoint lecture. "I guess so."

My eyes narrowed. _Fuckin' Riley Dwyer,_ I spat silently.

_We should kill him, Jasper,_ the other voice piped up.

_Fuck. Off!_

oOo

**A/N: **And that was Bella's first day of school! :)

The 371 number long encryption for her computer is an idea I borrowed from _Hawaii Five-O_.

Any thoughts?


	33. Chapter 33

******A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer, but her characters are fun to play with so I'm making them do my bidding for the foreseeable future. Jasper as the God of War and Peter 'just knowing shit' are ideas that belong to IDreamofEddy. I do own the plot and original characters of Longing though.

Thank you to my wonderful beta and friend Laurie Whitlock, who the character of Laurie is based off of. Thank you to my lovely and beloved sister who betas and pre-reads for me-you are a life saver, my dear, and I love you to pieces! Thank you also to my wonderful pre-reader Shadman! You guys are great! I do not know what I would do without you.

Thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, reviewed or just plain stopped by to visit. :)

**Just a reminder:** Edward's gift is a bit different than usual. Not only can he read minds but he can also put his thoughts into other people's heads as well as do something akin to a 3-way phone call. It's not limited to three people but, essentially, he and anyone of his choosing can have conversations that are completely silent through his gift. To denote this, conversations that take place through Edward's gift are in _"italics with quotes" _while everyone else's individual thoughts are in plain italics.

**Chapter 28**

oOo

_Thursday, October 28th, 2080_

BPOV

The rest of my first day of school had a few more bumps. I wasn't thrilled with the idea of sharing another class with Jasper but that meant another class with Emmett and Peter, who continually managed to keep me smiling even when I didn't want to, so some good had come of it, I supposed.

Meeting Riley Dwyer hadn't been the worst thing in the world either. He seemed like a decent guy so far and I could admit he wasn't so bad to look at, which made me feel better. It meant Jasper wasn't the only guy I was capable of being attracted to. Riley had been nice to me in a way that, up until that point, no one at Forks High School had been. There wasn't an undertone of rabid need to know the details of my life when he spoke to me. He didn't even ask about the Cullens, which earned him serious brownie points. He also hadn't asked me any truly personal questions. Granted, most people hadn't, too interested in procuring intel on the mysterious Cullens to bother much with finding out anything in depth about me. That was good though. It was what I'd been counting on. I was sure it wouldn't last, that eventually the focus would shift to tries at pumping me for as much personal information about myself as possible. A lot of the kids I'd met had seemed like they'd wanted to but had been too reticent to attempt it. My cafeteria confrontation with Lauren had surely done nothing but cement that reluctance.

That confrontation was one of those bumps. I wasn't about to let her think she could intimidate or insult me, but I would have preferred not to draw attention to myself. I didn't like the spotlight for obvious reasons but after the events of Louisville, I especially felt the need to keep a low profile. Living with the Cullens wasn't exactly cohesive with that desire, but I could have done a better job of minimizing it. Fifth period English had nailed this home. While I shared that class with Edward and Alice, I also shared it with the crowd I'd sat with at lunch, and I mean _everyone_ from lunch.

I ended up sitting next to Angela, the only other person at school who treated me like a person and not a walking, talking pillar of potential information. I had to admit it would have been nice to sit near Edward and Alice but there were no empty seats in their vicinity. If I couldn't have them, Angela's presence at my side was admittedly awesome in spite of it. Even though many students thought I kicked ass for how I'd handled Lauren, there had been a lot of tension in the room during those fifty minutes. I didn't want tension. I was already dealing with enough of it, and I didn't need any more.

P.E. was another bump. I didn't have any problem tempering my abilities to give off the illusion that I was normal, but I had never had to play team sports before either. It was an adjustment. I'd also bled some during that period. It had been two weeks since it last happened. I had thought I was over that. Thankfully, it had been brief, happening in the locker room at the beginning of the period, so no one noticed, and I had no intention of bringing it up to Dr. Cullen. Not yet. Unless the headaches and dizziness returned or I actually started hemorrhaging from my ears, he didn't need to know.

Now I was back at the Cullen house, having just walked through the door with Emmett, Edward, and Alice. Even though their school day ended after fifth period due to Dr. Cullen's writing all the kids out of P.E., they had come back after school to ride home with me since it was my first day. How they had gotten back to school was a mystery that I wasn't inclined to solve. I had bigger ones to occupy myself with.

Mrs. Cullen greeted us with a bright smile as we walked through the garage door, giving her three children tight hugs. It was clear to me that she wanted to give me one too but she restrained herself, and I smiled at her. So far she had been nothing but respectful of the boundaries I'd set, even though that wasn't one I'd set verbally.

"Carlisle is getting off work at five," she informed us, though her words were directed more at me than the others. "We would like to take you out for a celebratory dinner."

"What are we celebrating?" I asked.

Mrs. Cullen's smile grew brighter. "Your first day of school, of course. We thought it would be nice and we're proud of you, so we'd like to show you that."

"Okay," I said, unfamiliar with the notion of anyone being proud of something I had done, especially for something as minuscule as one day of high school. I would have argued but knew it was useless to do so.

"Where would you like to go?" she asked.

"The diner in town is fine," I answered.

"Are you sure?" she questioned doubtfully. "There are plenty of options in Port Angeles, Bella. I know you don't like us spending money on you but this is a celebration. Let us spoil you a little."

"It will be all ten of us correct?" I asked.

"Yes," Mrs. Cullen responded. I heard barely audible groans from the rest of the occupants of the house. How any of those besides Edward, Emmett and Alice would have heard her statement, I didn't know. Mrs. Cullen's face tightened sternly for a moment before it returned to it's usual sweetness.

"Do you not like the diner?"

"It doesn't matter to us," she said. "I just want to make sure you're not settling."

I grinned. "I'm not. I'm a simple kind of girl when it comes to most everything, Mrs. Cullen, and you never know the true measure of a town until you've experienced their diner food."

Mrs. Cullen looked amused. "Well, okay then."

oOo

Forks' one and only diner was in the center of town, predictably on Main Street, a depressingly short stretch of road that didn't actually deserve to be called such. It was named Diamond in the Rough, but if the smells emanating from the place and the jam-packed parking lot were any indication, its name was shit. The owner should have stopped at 'Diamond.'

I had opted to ride with Dr. and Mrs. Cullen. Edward and Alice had joined me while the rest of the kids piled into Emmett's gargantuan Jeep. When the ten of us walked through the door, revealing quaint vintage decor that still managed to give off a cozy vibe, every eye in the place was on us. It must have been quite the shock for the elusive Cullens to grace a lowly diner with their presence when they hardly ever made appearances in town, and with their ridiculously expensive clothing and polished looks, I supposed it was a foreign concept.

Diamond in the Rough was a seat yourself kind of place, and we had to push two tables together to accommodate our group. I was sandwiched between Alice and Emmett and I didn't like how close together we were, but I was relieved to be next to them and not Jasper. I'd stayed away from him, sequestering myself in my room as soon as I got home from school even though this disappointed Mrs. Cullen. I figured she would have ample opportunity to make up for it at dinner though so I didn't let it bug me.

As we sat there waiting for service, I listened to the murmured conversations going on around us. All of them were, unsurprisingly, about us.

_"What are they doing here? They hardly ever come into town."_

_"Why do Dr. and Mrs. Cullen keep taking in more children?"_

_"Why not? They can afford to."_

_"They are all so good looking."_

_"They're not related but they still look alike. It's strange."_

_"The new girl doesn't look like them but she's just as beautiful."_

_"I'd like to take a bite out Dr. Cullen,"_ one woman murmured to her friend. I snickered at this and received strange looks from my dinner companions, but I shrugged and they let it go.

I wondered if the Cullens were going to eat much. In the mornings, Mrs. Cullen always had breakfast ready for me when I came downstairs but no one else ever ate with me. Supposedly they ate before I made it down. For some reason I couldn't quite put my finger on, I had trouble believing that.

_Not your business, Bella._

There was some evidence that semi-supported that vague gut feeling though. In the days since I'd moved in, we'd never eaten lunch or dinner together either, with the exception of the day we went shopping in Seattle. Mrs. Cullen had always eaten before I got back to the house after my testing and in locking myself in my room while I built my computer, I'd missed dinner with everyone else. I didn't mind this, and they didn't seem to either. That meant I didn't have to feel guilty.

After fifteen minutes of waiting and no service, during which most of the customers had yet to be approached by any wait staff, I got up to go to the bathroom. As I washed my hands, I overheard who I presumed was the restaurant manager having a telephone conversation.

"Where the hell are you?" she demanded. "You were supposed to be here half an hour ago!"

_"I'm sorry, Laurie,"_ the woman on the other end of the line told her. _"Johnny's sick. Rick couldn't get off work, and I can't leave him."_

"You couldn't have called and told me that forty-five minutes ago, Ellen?" Laurie asked, flustered. "Or don't you remember that Joe is gone for two weeks on business and that I'm the only chef whether he's here or not?"

_"I'm sorry,"_ Ellen said again. _"I just figured you'd call someone in to cover."_

"How can I call someone in when I don't have any idea I need to until you don't show up for your damn shift, and there's no one to call," Laurie snapped, her voice beginning to sound panicked.

_"What about Shay?"_

"Shay ran off with Carl sometime last night," Laurie sighed. "She didn't even say goodbye. Just left a note for her momma on the kitchen table."

_"Wow,"_ Ellen said, _"that's a real bitchy thing to do. What about Gale?"_

"She started chemo the other day."

_"Well, shit, Laur,"_ she cursed. _"I really am sorry."_

"It's fine," Laurie said in resignation. "Just take care of Johnny."

I walked out of the bathroom, processing the information I'd heard and wondering if I should make an opportunity out of it. One look at Laurie's face and there was no way I couldn't. I approached her as she stood behind the counter filling drink orders. I was only there for four seconds before she looked up and acknowledged me.

"What can I do for you, hun?" she asked, trying not to look tired or discouraged.

"My dinner companions and I have been here for a little while and no one has come by yet," I said, leaning my elbows on the counter.

Laurie's jaw clenched but her eyes turned troubled. "Sorry about that. I'll get to you soon. It's kind of crazy right now."

I nodded. "I noticed. You seem a bit overwhelmed."

She chuckled good-naturedly, but her expression was exhausted. "That is an understatement, dear."

I gave her a reassuring smile. "What's going on, if you don't mind me asking?"

I may have already known but I shouldn't have, so I had to cover my tracks.

"My wait staff is currently ... unavailable," she responded, clearly trying not to sound bitter about it.

"I have waitressing experience," I mentioned idly. "I could help you if you want."

Laurie's eyebrows furrowed. She was a pretty girl in her mid-twenties if I had to guess, with red hair most women would be envious of. She was young for a restaurant manager. "But you're with the Cullens aren't you? You're their newest-"

"Child du jour? Yes."

"Why would you help me?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Because you need it, and if you're worried about impressing the Cullens, I'm better off wearing one of your aprons than I am sitting with them. You can't very well make the wealthiest family in Forks fall in love with your food if they never get to eat it."

She deliberated for a moment before giving me a response. "I manage the place but I'm also the primary chef, so I spend most of my time in the kitchen, which means you'd be handling the front of the house by yourself. Can you handle that?"

I smirked. "Yes, ma'am."

Laurie reached under the counter, grabbed an apron, and tossed it at me. I caught it nimbly. "I don't need to show you the ropes, do I?"

"No, ma'am," I said, "though you should give me the rundown on where I can find all the important stuff."

"Follow me," she said, her smile radiant and relieved.

"I need to let Dr. and Mrs. Cullen know what I'm doing first," I told her, jerking my head in the direction of their table.

"Of course."

I made my way toward the Cullens and gave them apologetic smiles. "Change of plans. The wait staff bailed on the manager and she's the only one here to serve customers, but she's also the chef. That makes it a little hard for people to get their food, and I've got waitressing experience so I'm gonna pick up the slack. Rain check on the celebratory dinner?"

"Of course, Bella," Dr. Cullen said. "You're doing a good thing."

I smiled, fairly certain my discomfort at his compliment was evident, and shrugged noncommittally. "I'll be here to take your orders in a couple minutes. There are people here who've been waiting longer."

"Of course, dear," Mrs. Cullen agreed, beaming.

Laurie showed me the locations of the vital things so I wouldn't be bumbling around, and then I got busy, trying not to recall many of the specifics of my last waitressing job. Having the burn of Jasper's occasional gaze skitter against my skin didn't help, but I was soon in a good, efficient rhythm, navigating the place with the grace and familiarity I'd had at The Finish Line.

In six minutes I had everyone's drinks to them, in fifteen total I had all their food orders put into the kitchen, in twenty-seven collectively everyone had their soup, salad, and any appetizer I could make without kitchen assistance. After that, I went in to the kitchen and helped Laurie on the line as much as time would allow so we could get the food out more quickly.

It felt great to be busy, to have another thing to focus on now that I didn't have my computer to occupy my mind and to distract me from the stagnation in Jane's case. Thank fucking God for inconsiderate, irresponsible, impulsive waitresses and, hopefully, only mildly sick children.

oOo

_Saturday, October 30th, 2080_

JPOV

Bella and I had been given our first joint history assignment the day before. It was a multi-part project that included a written report, an oral presentation and a media project. She would be doing the bulk of the work since I already knew and had done projects on this shit. My effort and some work on my part was still required, but, ultimately, I would mostly be there for guidance and tutoring.

The subject: the terrorist attacks of 2012.

Bella had not been happy with the topic, cursing Mr. Sumner under her breath with an impressive array of expletives, and when she ran out of them in English, she moved on to Spanish; after that it was French and then German. As she walked off to her second period Calculus class, not waiting for Emmett and Rosalie to walk her there in her agitation, it sounded as though she carried on in Arabic, but I wasn't sure. The family and I would never be living in a place that required us to speak it so learning it had never made it onto my 'to do' list. We weren't meant to hear any of it, her voice too low for the human ear to register, and that little display had me wondering how a girl her age knew so many different languages, especially one who probably hadn't been in school for awhile.

It was now ten o'clock in the morning on Saturday and Bella didn't have to be at work until 3:00 pm. Laurie, the restaurant manager at Diamond in the Rough, had offered her a job after Bella had saved her ass the other night, and Bella accepted. Even though I knew her day was full because of her shift, I wanted to get started sooner rather than later. We had two weeks to complete it, so I'd convinced Bella it was a good idea to get some of the legwork done today since the whole thing was a pretty huge undertaking to complete in that time frame for typical humans, though she had done her best to dodge me. That wasn't a lie in the strictest sense of the word, but more than that, I was eager to start changing her mind about me. So far, for the hour we'd been sitting here, no progress had been made on either front.

We were in the "library," the room in the house where everyone aside from Carlisle and I kept their books. All of us liked to read, though he and I were by far the most fervent. Many might have trouble picturing it but Emmett could sit for just as many hours lost in our collective literary stockpile as he could playing video games; there were only so many times you could beat one before it got boring, and he didn't do well with boredom. This room was three walls of books from floor to ceiling with rolling ladders, the fourth all glass; plus, bookcase upon bookcase artfully placed around the room, a regal, cozy fireplace, and lots of overstuffed, ridiculously comfortable couches and chairs. This was only a fraction of the family's collection, the rest in storage, and while we had copies of each in ebook format, we all came from a time when holding a book in your hands was a pleasure and a novelty. Newspapers were still around, though not in great abundance, and newly printed books were just about as abundant as the newspapers these days. Most of the books surrounding Bella and I had an emotional significance to one or more of us. We didn't have the heart to get rid of them.

Bella was sitting at one of the desks, me across from her, chair angled toward the window wall as she thought. She had done this six times in the past hour: stare idly at the textbooks laid out in front of her and then turn to stare out the window. She hadn't spoken a word in that time. She hadn't spoken at all since she'd come downstairs for breakfast. As far as I knew, aside from all her cursing, she hadn't spoken much since we'd gotten our assignment. She looked troubled and I didn't like it, but I didn't know what to say to her. I could banter with her, snipe at her, pin her to a wall with little to no effort or thought. This was different. I didn't know how to ask if she was okay without sounding like a douchebag or how to go about it without starting World War III, which would defeat my purpose, so I asked something else.

"Have you come up with any ideas for a thesis?"

Bella's eyes shot to mine, the emotion in them even more unreadable than usual. "My thesis is that this project is bullshit."

"I'm inclined to agree," I said, physically having to bite my tongue to keep from calling her sugar, "but we weren't asked to write a paper, do an oral presentation, and a media project on the merits of the assignment. That wouldn't require _any_ research, so do you have any ideas or not?"

"Here's an idea," she spat, "why don't you pull a thesis out of your ass!"

"That _is_ an idea," I said, trying not to sound amused. "Unfortunately, my ass is fresh out of theses, so we'll have to use our brains instead. Would you like to share what it is about this whole thing that has your panties in such a bunch?"

Bella scowled at me. "Aside from being forced to spend time with you?"

I gritted my teeth. _Be patient with her, Jasper. Be patient._

"Yes, aside from that," I said after I got a grip on my annoyance and was fairly confident I wouldn't sound like a dick.

"Isn't that reason enough?" she asked sweetly.

My fingers tightened around my pencil and it took some concentration to keep from snapping it, but I'd had plenty of practice with that the past couple days. _Patience, Jasper. Patience._

"Only if you discount your apparent case of ragin' PMS," I sniped. My mantra was losing its effectiveness and, though it was counterproductive to my goal, sarcasm was worming its way into my state of mind _almost_ without my permission. I was tempted to yank her out of her chair, bend her over the table, and spank her. My dick liked that idea very much. _Not helpful._

Bella launched her pen at my head with perfect aim and I batted it away before it hit me between the eyes. "You're a dick. I hate you."

I shrugged noncommittally as she was so fond of doing. "Dickishness and hatred aside, we still have a project to do and the terrorist attacks of 2012 are a vital part of United States history, as vital as the Revolutionary and Civil Wars amongst other things. You need to learn this shit whether you want to or not."

Her already aggravated expression soured further. "I already know this shit and I don't see why I should have to rehash a subject I know better than the back of my fucking hand!"

Her chest was heaving, her breathing shallow, and in addition to the fire in them, her eyes had taken on a glassy sheen that looked suspiciously like tears. She was genuinely upset about this. Without thinking I reached across the table and covered her hand with mine. What I'd done didn't sink in until I felt the warmth of the electricity caused by her touch flow up my arm. I expected her to snatch her hand away, but she didn't. I met her gaze warily, unsure of what I would find there, if the hatred that was so commonplace now would be staring back at me. Instead, she was searching it intently, her emotions still vague despite their intensity and I wanted so badly to feel them. It reminded me of Louisville and how she'd done the same thing before she headed back to work from the alley. I didn't understand what she was looking for now any more than I had then.

It was a good five seconds before she did what I'd expected her to do immediately, pulling her hand out from under mine and dropping it into her lap. She dropped her gaze there too. I didn't like this, the vulnerability I saw there, the lost hue clouding her brown eyes. Bella was strong and vibrant, full of a spark that couldn't be quashed. I knew she was sad. I knew she was haunted by something, but I had never seen her let it get to her. I hadn't known her long enough to make that presumption, I supposed, but that didn't change that it felt wrong.

"So you know this shit. The best way to prove it to Sumner is to get this project over with as quickly as possible," I said.

She looked back up at me, smiling a little. "True," she conceded. Then she smirked, her tone only a fraction as hostile when she next spoke, "You're still a dick."

I smirked back.

oOo

"So, Jazz," Emmett began, dragging out 'so', "what's up with you and Bella?"

It was later that afternoon, passed the time at which our human had to be at work, and Emmett, Edward, Peter, Carlisle and I were on a guy's hunting trip. We'd all taken down at least one kill so far, everyone but Em snagging their favorite meal: Edward snagged a mountain lion, I bagged a wolf, Carlisle snacked on a deer or two, and Peter, the crazy fucker, downed a psychotic moose (his favorite meal was still technically juicy drug dealer but he loved how spirited they were in the fight for their lives); Emmett had to settle for a mountain lion. Now that we'd at least eaten some, though we hadn't finished, we were all sprawled out in a clearing several miles from where we'd made and disposed of our kills. I was lounging on my back, staring up at the clouds. Peter and Edward were close by, mirroring me, while Carlisle and Emmett were propped against trees. Carlisle's eyes had been closed before Emmett opened his big fuckin' mouth and asked a question I did not want to answer.

I kept my face impassive. "That's a little vague, Em," I said nonchalantly.

"Oh, come on, Jasper," Edward piped up in disbelief and rolling his eyes. "You know exactly what Emmett means. Playing dumb doesn't suit you."

"It really doesn't," Em agreed. "So answer the question. Why do you guys hate each other?"

I crossed my arms over my chest. "That wasn't the question."

"Don't be a douche," Em said. "It just doesn't make any sense for you guys to hate each other. You didn't even talk when she broke in to the house." His face took on an expression of realization. "Is _that_ why you hate her?"

True to their word, Carlisle and Esme had told Emmett and Alice how they'd really met Bella after she left. After what had happened between her and Rose, they'd decided not to reveal the truth to their oldest daughter even though they genuinely believed we would never see Bella again. It was a damn good thing they hadn't.

I could have used this as an excuse for my quick temper with Bella but for some reason I couldn't. It didn't feel right to me, but I wasn't going to be honest about it either.

"I don't give a shit about that," I responded, and I truly didn't. "We just rub each other the wrong way is all. Sometimes people just don't mesh."

Emmett smirked. He didn't waggle his eyebrows but his emotions implied it. "Maybe you should consider rubbing each other the _right_ way."

Carlisle scowled, a slight growl rumbling in his chest. He was not amused by Emmett's comment. Edward snickered and Peter's emotions implied a light bulb had just gone off in his head.

_Fuck!_

I was once again grateful I could not project. I still didn't want anyone to know just how appealing I found that idea. Frankly, it was embarrassing.

"Now, that's an idea," Peter said thoughtfully.

"I'd really rather you not discuss that prospect," Carlisle shot at Emmett, and then moved his gaze to Peter, "nor to endorse it."

He was feeling protective and disturbed as well as angry, and I appreciated this. I knew Emmett was very protective of Bella as well, viewing himself as her big brother, but he was also fiercely protective of me. He wasn't exactly a fan of the way she treated me and he wanted to ease the tension between us. Of course, I never thought he'd actually suggest doing something literal to relieve it.

"You may not want us to talk about it, Carlisle," Emmett continued, "but everyone knows when two people snark and fight with each other the way they do and there's no good reason for it, it's usually because they subconsciously want to fuck."

Carlisle cringed. He had every intention of denying this out loud, I could feel it, but for the most part his emotions gave away that he knew Emmett spoke the truth. They had no idea just how close Bella and I had come to that, how true it was on my end or that it wasn't a subconscious thing for me in any sense. They would _never_ know if I had my way.

I didn't give Carlisle the chance to respond. I threw my head back and laughed before he could, laughed so hard it would have hurt if I'd been human, bending over at my waist, and propping my hands on my knees as I continued to chuckle. It was several minutes before I "calmed down." Being an empath fully capable of convincingly faking that shit came in really fuckin' handy sometimes. I deserved an Oscar. Even Peter looked fooled.

I would have let out a breath of relief if it wouldn't have given me away. "Yes, Emmett," I began sarcastically, "I _absolutely_ want to fuck Bella." It was difficult to keep from pacing and pulling at my hair as I said it since the truth of it was constantly driving me fuckin' crazy, but I refrained. "For a smart guy, you just said the _stupidest_ thing ever. Then again you _are_ a smart ass so I suppose that's to be expected."

"Shut up, dude," Emmett growled good-naturedly.

Edward picked up a pine cone and threw it at my head. What was it with people throwing shit at my head? "It's a damn good thing your intentions aren't less than honorable, Jasper," he said seriously. "If you hurt her, I'd have to kill you … for Alice's sake, of course."

_Liar!_

He wasn't totally lying but he would be kicking my ass for himself just as much as Alice. In the week Bella had lived with us, he'd gotten attached to her. She had a way of working herself underneath people's skin. Part of me did not understand it, what with her being a Grade-A hostile bitch a lot of the time, but there were other times when it wasn't such a far-fetched concept.

"Damn right," Emmett agreed, puffing out his chest menacingly. He and his threats weren't to be taken lightly, nor were Edward's, but I still was not intimidated.

"I'm afraid I would have to join in," Carlisle added and he meant that. He was another vampire who should not, under any circumstances, be underestimated. At 417, despite his stance on violence, Carlisle knew a shitload more about fighting than he let on. Whenever we managed to convince him to join us boys in wrestling around, he never failed to hand Em and Edward their asses. It gave me ammunition to tease them for, well, eternity.

I shifted my gaze to Peter, lifting a brow as I waited for him to weigh in on the subject. I could both feel in his emotions and tell by the look on his face that he had an opinion on the matter.

"I'd beat your ass as well Major, I suppose," he said with a shrug.

I responded with a shrug of my own. I didn't care. Sure I wanted Bella, she drove me fuckin' crazy, but I wouldn't actually act on it.

"Seeing as I have no intention of hoppin' into bed with her, I obviously have no intention of hurtin' her either," I said, taken by surprise at how much I meant it. I would rather die than hurt her and if for some reason I did, I would let them do whatever they wanted with me. "Now annoying her to death is an entirely different thing, and how did this conversation even evolve into this shit? You were just askin' me why I hate her so damn much and now you're threatening bodily harm if I fuck her? Make up your goddamn minds!"

Edward's emotions shifted and I knew what it meant. They all knew continuing on that tack would just be us talking in circles. They knew it would take a hell of a lot more than words to change my opinion, so he was going to close that subject and move everyone on to something else.

_Thank fuckin' God._

"So what's up with _you_?" Edward asked.

"Once again," I repeated in exasperation, stalling even though I was happy to be moving on, "vague."

"We've all noticed you haven't been projecting lately, Jasper," he clarified. "What's up with that?"

Now everyone's eyes were on me with interest, but they were periodically casting sideways glances at Peter as well. My family wasn't stupid. I knew that they were starting to figure out that I was off somehow. Edward's question was proof of it.

"Nothing's 'up with that,'" I mimicked, using air quotes. "I like to play around with my gift every once in awhile is all."

I could get away with this excuse. I'd gone without projecting before for that reason as well as during other rough times. They hadn't known what it meant then either because of my desire to protect them from that part of myself and though I had been considering finally telling them about some things, I hadn't made up my mind yet. Until I did, I would do my best to continue to protect them.

"Whatever you say, Jazz," Edward said.

It was clear he thought I was full of shit but his emotions were uncertain, which didn't make any fuckin' sense. I felt a pressure against my skull, the telltale sign that he was trying to probe my mind. This infuriated me. I had strict rules about that shit. He was only allowed to do it when I let him; otherwise, he lost a limb for attempted mind-rape. I had no intention of enforcing said rule at the moment simply because I wasn't in the mood, but I would ream him for it later. I glowered at him and he glared right back. His emotions radiated defiance but there was concern too. He didn't stick around to start shit though, turning on his heel at the scent of a mountain lion and taking off to hunt it down.

_"We're goin' to have a chat about this later, Ed!"_ I called out to him, not hiding my fury.

_"You're damn right we will!"_ he snapped back.

_Fucker!_

oOo

EdPOV

"If you're expecting an apology, you'll be waiting until the end of time," I said as Jasper approached.

He could sneak up on anyone else but not me. The white noise from his mind that blocked his thoughts from me always gave him away. It pissed him off. I did not care.

"You know the rules," he said, voice hard as steel.

I rolled my eyes before I turned to face him. "Fuck your rules, Jasper," I barked impatiently, holding out my arm. "Have at it."

"You _want_ me to rip your arm off," he said. It wasn't a question.

"No, I do not _want_ you to rip my arm off, but I knew what I was doing, and I did it anyway," I replied. "I also knew you would probably catch me. I was prepared for this."

"If you knew I would catch you, why the fuck did you do it?" he asked. I couldn't feel his confusion but it was obvious.

"You're really fucking dense sometimes, Jasper," I answered, purposely projecting more annoyance than I actually felt.

Jasper really was dense sometimes but I suspected, on an unconscious level, he did it on purpose. I wasn't about to psychoanalyze him though. I wanted to get back to Alice before the year 3_1_80.

"If that's your way of tryin' to convince me not to tear you apart, you need to rethink your strategy."

His eyes had turned black and fury was slowly building in him. If I truly didn't want him to rip me apart, I needed to tread carefully. He was still a powder keg sometimes even after all these years, but I wasn't sure I cared if he tore me to pieces. Something was wrong and I was worried about him. If ripping me apart got him to talk to me, so be it. As long as he didn't pull out a lighter, I could be put back together.

"I don't have a strategy," I said, "and even if I did, you're too damn stubborn to be talked out of doing whatever it is you're intent on doing."

Jasper didn't respond to that.

"Will you please tell me what the fuck is wrong?" I pleaded. I was taking a big risk but I figured, what the hell? Might as well go all or nothing. "And don't you dare say 'nothin'' like the Southern jackass that you are! I am not stupid!"

"I never said you were," he responded tightly.

"You don't have to!" I snapped. "Just tell me what the hell is going on with you!"

He still didn't speak.

I closed the distance between us and shoved him as hard as I could. He went flying backward into a tree, knocking it over with a resounding crack. I was playing with fire. I was a good fighter; Jasper was better by miles and miles. If I could make use of my gift, I had a shot of holding my own but even then, I would still be the one who ended up in pieces. He sprang back up and went into a defensive crouch, his fists clenched so hard I heard the slight keen of his nails gouging into his palms, but he didn't attack. His eyes had gone blacker than I'd ever seen a vampire's go before, the kind of black that sucks you in and never spits you back out, and he was visibly shaking. I instinctively knew it was because it was taking all his restraint to keep himself fixed in that spot, probably to keep himself from ripping me to shreds, but for some ironic reason I wasn't scared. After a minute or so, he relaxed.

"You say you're not stupid but that was a real fuckin' idiot thing to do, Edward," he growled. His eyes were still that dangerous shade of black, but I could see more of my brother in them than I had only seconds before. "I'm pissed at you, but I don't want you dead."

"You wouldn't kill me, Jasper," I assured him confidently. Whatever doubts he might have about himself, I didn't share them.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," he mumbled.

"What is it you're so afraid of, huh?" I asked, still going for all or nothing. I hadn't been ripped apart yet so I might as well continue to push my luck.

Still no response.

"Look, I know I was a dick the first few decades you were with us," I said with a sigh, "but we're good now, right?"

Jasper nodded.

"And you know you can talk to me?"

He nodded again.

"So why won't you just tell me what's going on with you?" I asked.

He shrugged.

I scowled, picked up a rock and threw it at his head. "It's really fucking hard to have a conversation about something important when only one party is actually participating with words."

Jasper just stared. I was really trying to be patient but he was making it difficult.

"If this has something to do with the Southern Wars, you need to get the fuck over it," I said tersely. "Do you really think so little of us that you assume we would judge you for the time you spent there? Newsflash, asshole! You were "born" into a fucking war! You were raised and trained to do reprehensible things and you did them. You killed and maimed and did whatever the fuck else vampires do when they're fighting in a war. You. Did. Not. Know. Any. Different! We _know_ that, and we don't give a shit! Do you know why that is, Jasper?" I asked, bristling. I didn't give him a chance to answer. "Because you spent one hundred fucking years living that life, and then you showed up on our doorstep and tried your damndest to change. Even when you fucked up and killed a human, which killed _you_, you picked up, moved passed it and kept on trying until you mastered your bloodlust. Do you think that we don't get that that was a million times harder for you because of your gift? Do you think that if you open up to us about your past that we will lose the hard-earned respect we have for you? We won't. You're family and we love you. _I_ love you! You're my brother and even though it sometimes still bugs me that you fucked my wife, that won't ever change! You're an ignorant asshole if you think otherwise."

By the time I was done, I was breathing hard, like I'd just run a goddamn marathon, so fired up was I by my tirade. I hadn't spoken a word that wasn't true. As much as I generally hated that his gift enabled him to interpret my feelings, I hoped he could feel that.

We took seats, side by side, in front of a redwood much as he and Alice had months before, silent for several minutes just listening: to the birds chirping and singing, the animals going about their business, to bugs doing whatever it is bugs do, the breeze rustling the trees, and the far off trickle of a stream. I was beginning to think my blow up had been for nothing when Jasper finally spoke.

"That was an awful lot of cursin' there, Ed," he teased, voice tinged with amusement and a tiny smile curling his lips.

I wasn't much of a curser, at least not the way the others were.

"Yeah, well, you bug me," I said. My tone was flippant but my emotions were contradictory. "You're annoying and frustrating and you bring out my inner sailor."

He smirked but didn't respond. I sighed again. We were back to that apparently.

"I never apologized to you," he said, taking me by surprise both for continuing to speak and for the mystery apology.

My brows furrowed. "For?"

"The Alice thing," he clarified.

"Why should you apologize for that?" I asked, frowning. "I was the one who held a grudge for fifty years."

"Because I slept with your mate," he said. "As annoying as I find the idea, it was a perfectly normal thing for you to do, and if you hadn't held a grudge I would have been offended on Alice's behalf."

"That's true, but even I can admit fifty years is a little excessive."

Jasper snorted. "Maybe a little."

I shoved his shoulder. "The rules of apologizing clearly state the apologiz_er_ is not allowed to mock the apologiz_ee_, douche."

"When have I ever followed the rules?" he asked with a grin.

"Seriously, Jasper," I said, getting back on track, "you broke things off with Alice as soon as you figured out we were mates. I was just too much of an ass to let it go after an appropriate amount of time."

"I'm not sorry for _that_," he told me. "For not breakin' things off with her sooner, I mean. I'm apologizin' for all the times I ripped off limbs when you gave me shit for it. You didn't mean anything to me at the time and I didn't have the patience to be understanding about it."

I shrugged and waved my hand dismissively. "Bygones."

"_Bygones_?" he exclaimed incredulously.

"What? It was a long time ago, I _do_ mean something to you now, you _are_ understanding now, and I got the girl. I don't really see what I have to be upset about, though the echoes of you and Ali screwing do occasionally still haunt me."

"You are a better man than I, Edward Cullen," Jasper said.

"Yep," I teased.

He shoved _my_ shoulder this time.

"I would have broken things off with her sooner, you know," he intoned quietly.

I raised my eyebrows in question and shifted my emotions to mirror the gesture.

"You wanna know the ironic thing?"

I let my emotions confirm that I did.

"I've got the gift of readin' the emotions of others and I can feel the love produced by the mating bond, but I can't feel the actual pull. I've never been able to."

"Oh."

"I've never been able to figure out why that is. Maybe it's because it's different for each individual mated couple or something," he theorized. "I knew you were drawn to her, but I figured it was because you were sexually repressed and she was the first female vampire you'd come across that wasn't taken or family."

"Hey!" I protested, throwing another rock at his head. Throwing stuff at his head was satisfying for some reason even though he never actually let it hit him.

Jasper didn't look apologetic for _that_ statement. He looked matter-of-fact.

_Jackass!_

"When I finally figured out, or rather _felt_ it through my gift, that you loved her... and _how_ you loved her... that's when I knew, and I broke things off between us," he explained.

"There's a difference?" I asked curiously.

"Oh, yes," he said bitterly. "There is a _huge_ difference between plain old love and mated love."

"You don't seem to be all that fond of either," I noted.

"I'm not."

We lapsed into silence again.

"Maria didn't turn me right away," he said, again taking me by surprise.

I once again let my emotions express my interest.

"She tortured me first." I sucked in a sharp breath. I wanted Jasper to talk to me; I just hadn't been prepared for _that_. "She knew I would be powerful and important, that I could be useful to her."

My emotions asked, _How?_

"I don't know," he admitted. His voice sounded hollow and it killed me. "She never said and I never asked. She wanted me unwaveringly loyal to her. That's why she did it and it worked. That wasn't the only way she did it though," he said with a sigh, tugging his hands through his hair. "She had me convinced we were mates. She explained what they were but she was vague, and I was young. In that environment, mates finding each other was rare. That wasn't to say that there weren't those that did, but I didn't know any better at the time, and I didn't understand the emotions they were giving off when I encountered those couples. Plus, they never lasted long enough for me to question what those feelings meant. They were instinctively driven to protect each other, but while that can be an asset on the battlefield for older vampires, the distraction is never good for newborns. It without fail cost them their lives in the first or second battle after they found their mates. It wasn't until Peter came around sixty-two years later, when he helped me to understand those feelings, that I finally realized Maria and I weren't. She would have killed him for helping me realize that if not for two things."

_Which were?_ my emotions asked.

"He'd been around long enough to prove we were better on the battlefield together than apart, and he kept camp running more smoothly as well. The other thing was that it didn't affect my loyalty to her ... at first. After awhile, as I got more attached to him, as I started to remember what humanity was though not necessarily to regain it, and as the emotions of those I killed began to wear on me, she knew she was losing her hold on me. She didn't have to worry about it for long though."

_Why?_

"Five years after I turned Pete, I turned a woman," he continued. "She woke up powerful, dangerously powerful. Her gift was to see those in others, much like Eleazer. The difference between them was that her gift took it to a whole other level. She could ferret out the weaknesses in them, block their gifts or turn them against the vampire it belongs to. Sometimes she did both, and my gift was just as vulnerable to her's as anyone else's."

I was thoroughly engrossed in Jasper's story as well as thoroughly horrified by it. Even in telling this though, he still possessed that charisma and magnetism that drew people to him like moths to flame.

"Maria knew that. That vampire is, in part, how I became the God of War," he told me. My emotions reflected my bemusement at his statement so he offered an explanation. "The Major and the God of War are similar but they are also two separate things. Maria saw potential for that vampire, Savannah was her name, to use her power to help her take my Major persona and turn it into something else, something more … more powerful, more deadly, just _more_, and she took advantage of that opportunity.

"She also used Savannah to counterfeit a mating bond between us and Savannah didn't hesitate to comply-she was just as blindly loyal to Maria as I was, though her loyalty was born out of fear whereas mine was based on something entirely different. I never feared Maria. Anyway, as I said, I had felt that love before from the mates I'd encountered during the Wars but just had no idea what it was until Pete. Savannah dug that out and used it to re-bind me to Maria. It was a piss poor imitation of the bond, mind you, and I never felt any sort of pull toward her ... at least I don't think I did. Since it's the one part of the bond I'm completely fuckin' clueless about, I suppose I can't be certain. The counterfeit bond served its purpose."

"Wow," I breathed. I didn't know what else to say. What _did_ you say to that? It's not like there's a handbook on how to comfort your brother as he tells you he was double-teamed by two bitches who mind-fucked the shit out of him.

Jasper snorted. "Eloquent, dude."

He was trying to inject humor into the situation. It was transparent, and I didn't blame him. I would've done the same thing if I were in his shoes. My gift would have guaranteed my survival, but I was fairly certain that if I'd been in Jasper's shoes that I wouldn't be nearly as functional. Humor would be a necessity for me no matter what shape I'd be in.

"This may be a stupid question but why didn't you just kill Savannah?" I asked. It seemed like the most logical solution.

"Maria ordered me not to," he answered with a shrug. "That's how mind-fucked I was. I would tear anyone else to pieces, single-handedly raze whole towns, but I would not violate her orders nor would I touch Maria with the intent to truly harm. Oh, she liked pain," he continued, meeting my eyes with a twisted sort of bitterness, "and when she wanted it, and she _always_ did, I obliged her. I followed her orders down to the letter," now there was a hardness to his voice I'd never heard before and then it turned empty. "Killin' Savannah wouldn't have changed anything anyway. There were some aspects of her gift that lasted whether she continued to purposely exert her power or not. The false mating bond was one of them."

My brows furrowed. I didn't like the sound of that. It hit too close to home but that was beside the point.

"If you were bonded to Maria, how did you manage to leave her?" I questioned curiously.

"As I mentioned, it was a piss poor imitation of a mating bond, and I had Pete. The fucker hardly ever left my side. He never gave up tryin' to break through to me on not just that but on so many things," Jasper said fondly. "Over time what Savannah had done started to degrade though I'm not sure why. She was powerful enough that it shouldn't have but it's a damn good thing it did. I was still ridiculously loyal to Maria, but I was smart enough not to let on about it weakening. When Charlotte came along, it started to crumble more rapidly, but after I let her and Peter go, things got ... bad for me, or worse I guess I should say. I handled it fine. I'm not a fuckin' pussy. That didn't exactly endear Maria to me any more than before, but I didn't have anywhere else to go, and I was too fucked up for it to occur to me that I could go off on my own."

_What changed?_

"Peter and Charlotte came back for me. One look at them, one taste of their emotions both towards each other and me, and whatever Savannah had done completely shattered. I left without hesitation, and I've never looked back."

"I guess I can understand why you're so 'anti-mate,'" I said.

"I know the bond exists—I can't not know that—but I'm constantly lookin' for evidence that it doesn't, which I know is ridiculous. After everything that happened with Maria and Savannah, I just don't want it to," Jasper said, frustrated. "I'm sure this also sounds stupid, but even though I see how happy all of you are every fuckin' day, it's still hard for me to accept that mating is a good thing," he sighed. "For you it means happiness, but when I even hear the word 'mate' all it represents to _me_ is pain, betrayal, and an utter loss of control and free will. That's a difficult fuckin' thing to shake."

I wondered if he meant betrayal by Maria or betrayal by Savannah. If it was the latter, there was more to the story than he had shared but that was obvious. You couldn't fit decades worth of information into a twenty minute conversation.

"I don't _get_ it, but I get it," I told him, hoping I was making sense.

"So, I'm sorry," he said again. "If I had known ..."

"Quit apologizing, Jazz," I said, "or I might start to think you've grown a uterus."

I had to make light of things. He needed me to even though he hadn't been the one to make a joke this time. I could see that in his eyes. Their continual haunted quality had amplified dangerously and though he was attempting to sound like what he'd told me wasn't a big deal, his voice still sounded hollow and dead. I hated it.

"Right," he chuckled, the sound containing a sarcastic edge. "Of the two of us you know damn well if one of us were to grow a uterus, it would be you."

"Keep telling yourself that," I smirked.

Jasper just smiled but none of the things I was worried about had lessened, and I wondered if pushing him had been a good idea after all.

"You gentlemen havin' fun?" Peter's voice sounded in the sudden silence. "Waxin' poetic on the beauty of the forest or some other girly shit, perhaps?"

I had been so absorbed in my conversation with Jasper, I hadn't noticed the void of Peter's thoughts and he didn't have a scent so I'd been taken by surprise for a third time. It was annoying. I didn't know if Jasper had been aware of his approach and he was too stoic for me to tell. That didn't really matter I supposed. Peter always showed up at the right time; _that's_ what mattered.

I looked at Jasper, our gazes met and I shifted my eyes down to the rocks sporadically placed around us. Jasper's smile widened and, lightning quick, we both palmed a decent-sized one and lobbed them at Peter's head.

Peter didn't bother dodging them and they pinged off his forehead with loud cracks.

"What the hell?" he demanded.

He looked outraged but Jasper and I both knew he wasn't. Jasper and I shrugged simultaneously, still grinning mischievously.

Jasper's grin faded as he moved his gaze off to an unknown spot in the distance, and Peter was eyeing him knowingly. That was my cue to leave. There was nothing more I could do for my brother. Jasper needed Peter now.

I got to my feet and brushed the dirt from the seat of my pants. Alice would be annoyed if I didn't.

"See you guys back at home," I told them.

"Sure, Ed," Peter said.

"Hey, Edward," Jasper called out before I got more than two feet from him and Peter. I turned to face him again but he was still staring off into the distance. The fact that his eyes weren't on me didn't change the steely, dangerous tone of his voice as he said, "That's privileged information. Keep it between you and Alice."

I nodded. I hadn't had to mention anything about Alice seeing the conversation between Jasper and I. I had made a clear decision to confront him so that had been a given, and Jasper knew that. What I hadn't known was how all this would play out. I'd had monumental doubts that he would tell me anything about what was going on with him, so, to a certain extent, I hadn't been worried that he'd reveal anything he didn't want her to know if I _did_ manage to take him by surprise and get him to talk; but Jasper had taken a good long while to open up to me. I'd suspected that meant it had taken a lot of conscious thought and effort on his part, especially considering what he'd shared, and that after he'd taken that time to think, he'd come to just as clear a decision to tell me as I had about confronting him. What he'd just said confirmed my suspicions.

"Of course," I promised. He returned my nod tersely, still not looking at me.

Though it had been my idea to leave initially, that nod gave me the feeling that I was being summarily dismissed. Under different circumstances that might have bothered me, but right now I didn't mind.

As I ran toward the house, Peter's voice echoed in my head, _"You did a good thing, brother."_

I smiled. Peter's reassurance had my doubts lessening, and it was the first time he'd ever called me 'brother.'

oOo

JPOV

I couldn't quite believe I was doing this but it didn't change that I was. It was 9:45 at night and I'd made it here with just fifteen minutes to spare. Most businesses closed by eight, nine at the latest, but this place was always busy. It was surprising for a town as small as Forks, but it warranted the later hours, which was a good thing for me since we'd only gotten back from our hunting trip half an hour ago, Edward and I having stayed out later than the others to have our little chat, and Pete then taking over for Ed when things between us were resolved but had gotten a little too heavy. The only other establishment that stayed open later than this place was the diner and that was because it was Forks' pride and joy. People came from all over to eat their food. Luckily that meant Bella would be working until midnight. That gave me some wiggle room.

Despite everything that had gone on during the day, particularly the heaviness of my confrontation with Edward and the awful memories swimming around in my head because of it, I hadn't been able to get the troubled look on Bella's face from that morning out of my head all day. Seeing her sad and desolate just wasn't right. It was fundamentally wrong, in fact. She still annoyed the shit out of me, and I still loved to piss her off. She was so fiery and passionate, so full of life, when she was angry. It was almost like she _was_ life. It was beautiful, _she_ was beautiful, and it wasn't just a physical beauty. It was the definition of it.

_Wow, you've gone soft. You've turned into a downright mushy bastard, Jasper,_ I thought with a scowl. _What? You've got nothing to say _now_ fucker?_ I demanded of the voice in my head. Silence. There might as well have been fuckin' crickets chirping in my head.

When Bella was sad she lacked that passion. Her spark didn't die but it dimmed. She kind of deflated and it bugged me. I wanted to fix it. I _needed_ to fix it.

I wasn't doing this to make things easier on the family or to make her like me. I was doing this because I wanted to make her smile, to take her mind off of whatever it was that was eating at her even though I had no clue what it was. It wasn't my place to ask her about it and she wouldn't confide in me anyway. She didn't trust any of us enough to do that, not even Carlisle to whom she seemed to have the greatest attachment, but I could do this for her. I could try to make her smile. She was just as beautiful when she smiled as she was when she was pissed though in a different way.

I hadn't forgotten Bella's birthday. It was more that it had gotten buried underneath all the shit I was struggling with of late, but I was reminded of it now.

I hadn't bought a gift for a human since _I_ was human and I hadn't bought a gift for a girl that wasn't my sister in ... ever. I was out of my league and I needed help.

"What can I do for you, honey?" the kindly shopkeeper asked. Did they even call them shopkeepers anymore?

I tried not to be indignant that a woman less than a quarter my age had called me 'honey'.

"I, uh," I started uncertainly. "I need to buy a present."

The woman looked amused. She was radiating it as well. It got a little harder to fight off my irritation. It didn't help that I was nervous.

_Why the fuck are you nervous, Whitlock?_ I demanded, grinding my teeth. I again expected the voice to weigh in. It didn't. _Really? Nothing?_ No response. _Douche._

"What kind of present, dear?" she asked.

My eyebrows raised. _How the fuck should I know? That's what you are supposed to be for! Incompetent idiot!_

The woman gave me a sympathetic but somewhat superior look that suggested she was thinking something along the lines of, "Poor, clueless boy."

I ground my teeth harder. My nerves were irritating. I hadn't been nervous since I was human, and I didn't fuckin' like it.

_Pussy!_ The voice that sounded like the Major chimed in.

_I wondered when you'd share your absolutely useless opinion,_ I snapped.

_You realize you're carrying on a conversation with yourself, right?_ I could hear the bastard smirking. I could even see myself as the Major smirking at me. How fucked up is that?

"There are birthday presents, anniversary presents, 'just because' presents ..." she clarified. "You get the idea."

"Right," I said with a nod. "It's a birthday present."

"Who is it for, honey?" she probed in blatant interest.

_What is this? A fuckin' inquisition?_

If I didn't need her, I'd snap her neck and not even feel bad about it. I may appreciate the sanctity of human life and blah, blah, blah, but she was pushing it with her condescension.

"Well, uh," I stammered, fidgeting. I actually fuckin' fidgeted. Jasper Whitlock did not fuckin' fidget! _Goddamn it!_ "There's this girl ..."

The woman smiled and gave me a knowing look.

_Bitch!_

"It's always a girl, isn't it?" she asked conversationally.

I fought off my glower. I had to be sociable. I still didn't have a clue, so I still needed her.

"Uh, no," I said.

"So this one's special," she mused. It wasn't even a question.

_What the fuck?_ I grumbled internally.

She could have at least had the courtesy to ask instead of assuming, and what business was it of hers?

Nosy _bitch!_ I amended.

"Not particularly," I responded, my tone only vaguely insistent. I was aware that if I sounded too insistent, it would just confirm what she already believed.

Sure, I kind of liked Bella now and I didn't want her sad anymore but that didn't make her special ... I didn't think.

Even though my voice wasn't terribly argumentative, she didn't believe me. I did not care what she believed.

"What does she like?"

_Fuck if I know!_ was what I wanted to say. Instead, I said, "I haven't got a clue."

"Well," she smiled cheerily, "we've got our work cut out for us, don't we?"

She looked like she'd hit the jackpot.

_Wonderful._

oOo

**A/N:** So, Bella got a job, she and Jasper got assigned their first history project, the guys are getting curious about Jasper's relationship with Bella as well as what's going on with Jasper himself, Jasper decided to open up to Edward and thus Alice, a new character was introduced, we got a peek inside Edward's head, more of Jasper's past was revealed and he decided to buy Bella birthday present! This was a very busy chapter, folks! :)

I hope you liked it.

**Please note:** I have to take a break from posting for a couple weeks. I have a few chapters written ahead still but some of them need some reworking or to be finished because there were parts I couldn't write without feedback. I now have that and am able to continue. I can't rush myself to get those chapters out to you because I can't stress myself out. I have never dealt well with stress and trying to get them out to you on my weekly schedule might end up resulting in me needing to take an even longer break. I've always wanted to remain several chapters ahead so I won't have to keep you waiting. Then, there is also the matter of me going on vacation in a couple weeks. However, there is an outtake for this chapter that is completed and not in need of editing. Normally, I post outtakes concurrently with the chapter they belong to but since I won't be posting for a couple weeks, I decided to wait until next Sunday/early Monday to post it so I won't leave you guys hanging for too incredibly long. As I said, this won't be a long break. I just need a little time to take some of the pressure off and make sure I put out the best work I can.

Take care and, as always, I would love to hear what you think. :)


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: **Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer, but her characters are fun to play with, so I'm making them do my bidding for the foreseeable future. Jasper as the God of War and Peter 'just knowing shit' are ideas that belong to IDreamofEddy. I do own the plot and original characters of Longing though.

Thank you to my wonderful beta and friend Laurie Whitlock, and my lovely and beloved sister who betas and pre-reads for me—you are a life saver, my dear. I love you to pieces! You guys are great! I do not know what I would do without you.

Thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, reviewed or just plain stopped by to visit. :)

Also, a million thanks to whomever nominated me for the Non-Canon Awards for best Jasper/Bella. It is such an honor. If anyone is interested in voting, no matter who you vote for, you can do so on April 2nd. You can find the link to the site on my profile. :)

It has been brought to my attention that my future dates are two days later than what they should be. Ordinarily, I would change them to fit accurately, but I need them to been on the weekdays that I have placed them on, so they are staying put. :)

And now, here is the outtake for chapter 28 I promised.

oOo

**Longing Chapter 28 Outtake #1**

_Thursday, October 28th, 2080_

Jacob's POV

It was six o'clock, and Leah, Embry, Quil, Seth, Paul and I were at Diamond in the Rough grabbing dinner. It was our day off from wolf duty; the pack was big enough now that the same wolves weren't wearing themselves thin with the responsibilities that came with that part of our heritage, which was especially good for dad and Talise.

A year ago, Sam would have been with us but things were just too damn awkward between him, Leah and I. Now that he'd joined the pack, he wasn't so bitter about Leah leaving him for me. He even understood since he'd been told about imprinting, and though it had lessened the sting of it, it hadn't dulled the pain of losing the girl he'd hoped to spend the rest of his life with.

The whole thing sucked. We had all been so close before, and though I'd never managed to view Leah as a sister-type figure, I had been rooting for her and Sam. Then I'd phased and everything changed. One look at Leah and she went from being one of my best friends, from one of my best friends' girlfriend, to my whole world. Everything had gone to hell after that. When Leah phased, our bond only got stronger and there was no staying apart. It was physically impossible, and Sam had to watch us be happy together without understanding how Leah could have gone from loving him so damn much one day to loving me or how he and I could go from being such great friends to me stabbing him in the back by stealing his girl.

Our betrayal nearly killed him and it nearly killed us too. We both missed him like crazy, but Leah and I couldn't _not_ be together; we couldn't _not_ be happy. That made things awkward, and Sam had to watch us together enough. That he had to see it not only around the Rez but also in our minds when we phased just wasn't right. As much as we missed him, we couldn't force that on him any more than was absolutely necessary.

We ate at the diner as often as possible because the food was fucking delicious, and Laurie, the owner, was old friends with my step-sister, Jocelyn, Talise's daughter from her first marriage. Talise had been a mother to me since I was four and that made Jocelyn just as much my sister as Rachel and Rebecca were. Laurie had no idea we were shapeshifters, but she did know we ate enough to feed an army which, in a way, we were. Because of this and her friendship with my sister, she hooked us up. We tried to pay her anyway but she never accepted, so we helped out around the diner from time to time to make up for it. Plus, we just liked her. She was sweet, and she was family.

When the Cullens and the human they'd taken in walked through the door, it had all of us bristling with the exception of Seth. The kid was seriously fucking abnormal. It was like his natural instinct to be physically offended by their presence was broken or something. I didn't necessarily want to react to them this way in light of the real reason we had formed the treaty with them, and they were doing a good thing by taking in the human. I was trying, but I was having a genuinely difficult time turning off those instincts of revulsion and mistrust. The fact that they smelled like shit didn't do much for their case.

I knew I wasn't the only one that was struggling this way, and there were others still whose opinions hadn't changed in the least. I was trying when others weren't. That had to count for something, didn't it?

We all overheard Laurie's phone conversation with her delinquent waitress and the only thing we could think was that she'd been too overwhelmed to notice we were here to ask us for help. We'd been on the verge of offering our services when the Cullens' human beat us to it.

When Laurie tossed an apron at her, I had an idea, but I waited until the Cullens left before I brought it up. Of course, if Leah agreed they would figure it out in a heartbeat, but it was better if it was already done before they had a chance to protest.

"How do you feel about waitressing, babe?" I asked Leah with a mischievous grin.

My girl was smart and picked up on my idea immediately. The Cullens were a different kind of vampire, and I was trying to give them the benefit of the doubt, but they were still vampires. Someone had to watch out for Bella and Laurie was short two waitresses, one if she hired her. From the way Bella was handling things, I doubted she would walk away from here tonight without a job. She'd been the most receptive to Leah, so my idea made sense.

"I think it's about time I tested out the waters of gainful employment," Leah answered, grinning back.

"I was hoping you would say that," I said. I couldn't resist leaning down to give her a kiss. Just as I swiped my tongue across her bottom lip and she'd granted me entrance to that delectable mouth of hers, I felt a sharp poke to my shoulder.

I broke away from my girl, ready to break whoever had done it in half. The offending party was Paul. Of fucking course it was Paul. I glared fiercely at him and so did Leah.

"What the hell?" I demanded.

Paul rolled his eyes. "For starters, that's fucking gross. If I wanted to see people shoving their tongues down each other's throats, I'd watch porn," he said. Seth, Embry and Quil choked on their drinks. Leah and I shuddered. "Whatever, like we don't have to watch enough of that shit when we're phased, and _I_ will get a job here if that's your plan to keep an eye out."

"Hell, no," Leah shut him down. "You were a total dick the other day, and you'll just use working with her as an excuse to try to get in her pants!"

That was true. Paul had reacted badly to her because she'd reeked of vampire and some other vibe none of us could place, but she was feisty and that's how he liked his women. Plus, the girl was outrageously beautiful. Anyone with eyes could see that. She wasn't more beautiful than my Leah, but if I wasn't a taken man, I would be tempted to go there.

"Leah's right, dude," Seth agreed. "She doesn't like you, but she seemed to at least like my sister a little."

I didn't just want this to keep an eye on Bella. I really, truly wanted it for Leah. She didn't have any female friends, and I thought she might be able to have that with this girl.

"Sorry, jackass," I said with shrug and a smirk. "But you're out of luck. I'm your Beta, next in line to be Alpha. What I say goes."

oOo

**Longing Chapter 28 Outtake #2**

_Saturday, October 30th, 2080_

RPOV

The boys were out hunting together, feeding on carnivores and doing God knows what else. Probably whipping out their cocks and a measuring tape, though they'd already done that countless times. Esme and Alice had gone to Port Angeles to check out the surprisingly great little antique shop there for an interior design project of Esme's. If our mother came home without anything for our house as well I would be shocked.

I was taking this opportunity to go on an overnight hunting trip with Charlotte. I had a serious bone to pick with her.

We'd decided to take my BMW several miles in the opposite direction of the one the boys had gone, which was northeast. Neither of us wanted to risk running in to them. We needed some serious girl time and Charlotte was my best friend. Alice and I were close but we just weren't interested in the same things … other than looking good. Lord knows we both fucking loved looking like goddesses, though I won that contest every time. I'm a vain bitch. I'd never bothered to deny it and I never will, but at least I had good reason to be. I wasn't one of those delusional idiots that looked in the mirror and saw something that wasn't really there.

Most people, mature ones anyway, could acknowledge and respect that others had different passions and opinions. Alice and I weren't so great at that, but I had never claimed to be mature and Alice's unique situation, the whole not remembering shit thing, didn't always lend maturity to her character. Charlotte, on the other hand, was the poster child for the aforementioned mature respect and acknowledgment shit, and she brought that out in me. I was a better person when I was around her just like I was when I was around Emmett or Jasper.

After being my best friend for the past fifty-six years, she knew me well enough to have figured out I needed to get something off my chest, and she wasn't anxious about it. Her body language and facial expression read patience and support, but there was no surprise there and there was certainly no apprehension.

Her lack of dread was another thing I loved about her. I could be a scary bitch, and there were times when I genuinely enjoyed being feared. It could be so much fun, but there were also times when I wanted nothing more than for people to hurl shit back at me just as hard as I dished it out. I cared about people's feelings—sometimes—but I liked showing my quick wit and sharp tongue, and I craved a friend who could keep up, who could predict when I needed this and know when I needed more supportive, less harsh interaction. Charlotte was that friend. She split her time being cool as a cucumber and handing me my ass—at times to give me what I craved and in others to put me in my place. I hated that. It pissed me off, but I loved that she had the balls to do it. It made me admire and respect her.

Charlotte and I drove for two and a half hours, ending up in Deschutes National Forest near Bend, Oregon. After we'd chowed down, me laughing my ass off at the look on Charlotte's face as she fed on a cougar, we drove another couple hours to Oregon's Rockaway Beach. We traveled until we came across an impressive rock formation and leaped nimbly to the top of it, taking a seat on a cliff face and letting our legs dangle off the edge.

"What's on your mind, Rose?" she asked, not waiting for me to broach the subject. I wouldn't have waited to get into it because I'd rather cut through all the shit than tiptoe around issues like a pansy, but Charlotte was all about preemptive strikes and didn't wait around, even for my minimal dawdling.

I dug my fingers into the ground by my leg, pulling up a handful of dirt and rocks, and then started lobbing the bigger pieces over the cliff. We both watched as the stones skipped and skimmed the surface of the ocean as I thought about what I would say. I never minced words, but I was a little nervous about what she might say once the conversation got started. That didn't mean I was going to be all nice and sugarcoat things. Charlotte was my best friend but I wasn't going to change for her. The only person I'd do _that_ for was Emmett, but he would never ask me to.

"When Jasper joined the family 96 years ago you gave me hell for the way I treated him," I started, unable to keep a trace of bitterness from my voice. "Bella treats Jasper like shit, but you haven't said a word to her. What the _fuck_ is that about, Charlotte?"

She pulled her legs up off the side and turned to face me, folding them Indian style. I mimicked her.

"You're upset," she said calmly, observing me keenly.

I rolled my eyes. "What on earth gave you that idea?" I snapped sarcastically. Charlotte didn't respond, and I wanted her to. I wanted her to fight with me, to show some passion. I wanted to know I meant something to her. I was a confident bitch, but even _I_ needed reassurance sometimes. "I'm not upset, Charlotte, I'm fucking furious! You hated me for twenty goddamn years because of the way I treated him. It took another ten for us to truly get over our shit before we became good friends and another ten to become best friends. She comes along and treats Jasper like fucking scum, and you don't seem to mind at _all_!"

Charlotte's expression didn't change. "She's different."

I was seething now. I'd been seething since I met Bella fucking Crawfield. I hated her. I hated that Alice loved her. I hated that Esme and Carlisle worshipped the ground she walked on. I hated that Carlisle convinced me to vote for the little bitch to move in by appealing to my morals. Those morals of mine agreed that everyone should have a safe and loving place to live, even her. I also, begrudgingly, worried about what would happen if she ever found out we were vampires, mostly because of what it would mean for us but also, kind of, for her, which made me hate that I had morals at all. I was beginning to regret becoming a better person. I was bitter that Carlisle was willing to give her a choice between becoming a vampire and staying human, if that's what it came down to, when he hadn't been considerate enough to offer me that literally life-altering decision, though I was simultaneously, contradictorily, pleased by it as well. I had come to terms with my existence as a vampire awhile ago, and was even happy about it to a degree, simply for the fact that it enabled me to spend eternity with Emmett. If there was one thing I could not deny, it was that one lifetime with him would never be long enough. I also hated that Bella was so fucking beautiful. She was even more beautiful than I'd been as a human. If it came down to it and she chose this life over a human one, her beauty would eclipse mine and that was not cool, but most of all, I hated how enamored my husband was with her. I hated how his face lit up when she was around and how he'd practically considered her family from the moment he'd met her despite our little showdown and how much it had upset me; but Emmett was my conscience, and he'd eventually managed to convince me I was wrong for what I'd done, even though I wasn't sorry for it. Okay, maybe I was, but only a little. It was irritating, and I was hoping she would give me an excuse to kill her. The prospect that I might feel minutely bad about it was even more irritating, but that irritation wouldn't be enough to keep me from doing it. That didn't mean I wanted any threats or danger to befall my family, but a girl could dream, and protecting my family came above all else.

"How is she different?" I ground out, my teeth gritted together so hard it was a miracle I got any words passed my lips at all.

"I never told you why I had such a problem with you, did I?"

Some people said there were no stupid questions. Those people were wrong. Charlotte already knew she hadn't, and I'd never asked. We talked about almost everything ... everything but the Southern Vampire Wars. That was a taboo subject; everyone knew it and no one asked. It didn't take a genius to figure out her reasoning had something to do with that, and I wasn't fucking stupid. That would inevitably lead to someone sinking their teeth into me, no matter our closeness, and I was too damn beautiful to sport scars … except for those I'd gotten from Emmett, of course. _Those_ I bore proudly.

"No," I responded, not bothering to hide my impatience. I didn't care if she knew I was annoyed.

"You were afraid of him," she said simply.

My mouth dropped open before I snapped it shut, setting it in a stubborn line. I _had_ been afraid of Jasper but hell if I was going to admit that.

"It's okay," she reassured me. "You should have been."

Now I was confused, and Charlotte noticed. Sometimes it irked me that she was so damn observant and that she could read me so well—a girl had to have _some_ mystery—but in this case it didn't bother me.

"He was tryin' to move on from that time in his life, Rose," Charlotte explained, looking and sounding pained. "He was tryin' to escape that person but tryin' to do that was damn near impossible. He's still havin' a hard time with that, even after all this time. He may not have seemed like he wanted to at first, but he did and still does. Your fear just reminded him and made it even more difficult for him to do that. That's why I hated and resented you."

I scowled. "How the hell was I not supposed to be afraid of him?" I argued, forgetting I'd made a pact not to admit this. "You just said I should have been!"

"I didn't say it made sense," she said with a shrug. "You weren't there, Rose. If you think he was scary when you first met him ... God, you have no fuckin' idea ... and you weren't there. You don't know what he went through. I didn't even see it for a long time, and when I finally did and _what_ I did? I only witnessed a few months, Rose. Peter only witnessed a few decades, but Jasper was there for one hundred and two years. That's how long he endured that shit. You just have no fuckin' clue."

I shuddered. I couldn't imagine what they'd been through. I knew it was bad and that Jasper had gotten the worst of it. I felt for them, I truly did, but I didn't feel _sorry_ for them. Was it heartwrenching? There was no doubt, but everyone got dealt heaping piles of shit in their lives. Theirs was the war. Mine was Royce King. We all had to figure out how to muddle through it.

"You could easily change that," I told her. I might as well take the risk and push my luck. It was the most she'd ever talked about the war.

"I could," she agreed. "But I won't."

Eh, whatever. I knew she wouldn't bite.

"What does any of this have to do with you not calling Bella on her shit?"

"She's not afraid of him," Charlotte said. "Not once in all the time I've seen them interact has she ever shown an ounce of fear. He needs that. He also needs someone to call him on _his_ shit."

"Isn't that what he has you and Pete for?" I snapped. "Hell, he may not listen to all of us the way he listens to the two of you, but that's what the rest of us are here for too!"

"He doesn't listen to her exactly," she said. "But he does respond to her. Pete and I aren't quite sure how, but he does."

"And that's a good thing?" I questioned, still utterly confused.

"We don't know yet," she answered. "But it could be. That's why I can't call her on it, and, from what I can tell, I think there's even a little part of him that enjoys the shit she gives him."

"Why the fuck would he enjoy it?" My tone was incredulous though I could acknowledge it wasn't the most far-fetched thing. My views on Charlotte occasionally handing me my ass a prime example, but she only did it when I gave her a good reason to. Jasper had never given Bella an excuse to treat him like shit and it bugged me. Most of the time I wanted to rip her to pieces for it, but I held back because while I knew that Jasper would appreciate me sticking up for him, his annoyance would far outweigh that gratitude. I didn't want to test what that annoyance would bring about.

"Jasper doesn't often meet people that challenge him, and I don't mean calling him on his shit. I mean it in a totally different way that I can't really explain," Charlotte said. "He needs that too, but that doesn't mean I like holding my tongue."

I huffed.

"I'm sorry, Rosie," she said emphatically, and she did mean it. She never said or did things she didn't. "I love you. I would die for you, but I love Jasper more. God forbid if it ever came down to a choice, I would choose him over you every time, so if Bella being here could be a good thing for him, I have to support that. That doesn't mean you're not my best friend."

Charlotte was nothing if not blunt. Her words stung but they weren't anything I didn't already know, and I would certainly never doubt the status of our friendship.

Unfortunately, if Bella might be good for my "twin" somehow, I would just have to grin and bear her presence. It was too bad that she had so much potential for someone so annoying. That potential and the fact that I recognized it fucking irked me.

There was one thing I just didn't get.

"If her being here could be such a good thing for Jasper, why the fuck did you vote 'no'?" I snapped. I wasn't angry with Charlotte but she wasn't making any sense. She was _always_ supposed to make sense. I was the only one who was allowed not to and get away with it.

"For starters, Jasper needed someone to support him, to be on his side," Charlotte explained. "Plus, Pete kept everything close to the vest before the vote. You obviously don't want Bella here," she countered. "So why did you vote 'yes'?"

I flopped onto my back. "Because since I started to get a handle on my trauma and became a more balanced person, I developed feelings outside of those for the family, and Carlisle appealed to my morals like a douche," I groused irritably. "Mostly though, I did it for Emmett. The look he gets whenever Bella's brought up or around ... she makes him happy. I can be a cold bitch but I have my moments, and I love him more than anything. I would go to hell and back, lasso the moon and all that shit, if that made him happy. God, that is so fucking cheesy, not to mention cliche!"

But it was true.

"You are such a fuckin' marshmallow, Rosalie Hale," Charlotte teased, giving me a genuine smile.

I smiled back. It was wide and happy.

"Rosalie _McCarty-_Hale," I corrected.

"Shouldn't it be Rosalie Hale-McCarty?" she asked.

"Yes," I answered, "but I don't like it that way. Putting his name first is just another way of showing him that he's more important to me than anything, especially a name."

"Alright then," she said with a nod. "Rosalie _McCarty_-Hale."

"Damn right," I said proudly and then switched back to our original topic, my expression turning deadly. "I meant it when I said I'd kill her."

"I know. If she ends up being bad for Jasper, I'll help you," she told me matter-of-factly. "I do kind of like her though."

I scowled again. _Bella fucking Crawfield!_

oOo

**A/N: **Alright, so there is the outtake I promised you. We got some background from Jacob on his and Leah's relationship. I don't enjoy making Sam miserable, but it always bothered me that Leah didn't get a true happy ending in the books, and I don't plan to keep Sam alone forever. :)

We also got some insight in to Rosalie's reasons for voting yes, and in to her friendship with Charlotte. Does anyone else really love Charlotte? I'm looking forward to delving more into her character.

When I post next, it will be chapter 29, which, incidentally, is the Halloween chapter. It won't be too terribly long of a wait. I promise!

As always, I would love to know your thoughts. :)

Take care, my dears.


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm only borrowing her characters for a little while. The plot and original characters of Longing do belong to me, however. Jasper as the God of War and Peter "just knowing shit" are ideas that belong to Idreamofeddy.

Thank you to my lovely sister, Shelljayz, who pre-reads/betas for me and has a huge hand in so many aspects of this story, and thank you so much to Laurie Whitlock, my fabulous beta and friend, whose story _A Thousand Years_ won third place in The Non-Canon Awards! Congratulations, honey!

Thank you to everyone for waiting so patiently for me to return to posting. I love you all and appreciate it so much.

***Note:** I had previously stated that I would post outtakes that belonged with chapters together, but as I worked over my little sabbatical, I realized that I may not always be able to do that. There will be times when I might have to post an outtake in place of a chapter in order to make sure that I can continue to post without taking breaks, though I can't promise that I won't ever have to take another one. Real life happens, unfortunately.

I also know I said that this would be the Halloween chapter, and, as you can see, it does start on Halloween. However, this chapter was one of the ones that needed work, and by the time I was done writing it, it was way too freaking long to post all together. Unfortunately that means the actual fun Halloween stuff happens in the second part of this chapter, which will be posted next week. Sorry, guys. :(

I do still think that some good stuff happens in this part too though. :)

**Chapter 29 Part 1**

oOo

_Sunday, October 31st, 2080_

JPOV

It was 8:30 am. Carlisle, Peter and I were seated at the kitchen table reading different sections of the newspaper and passing them off to each other when we'd finished like a well-oiled machine. Carlisle and I had been doing this for decades, and our paces matched perfectly. Peter had fallen into our pattern effortlessly now that he'd joined our routine. Edward was at his piano, playing furiously, clearly composing a new piece of music. Rose was in the garage working on the car I bought for her. She was taking her sweet time building it, handling each part like it was a delicate newborn baby. It was just the slightest bit hilarious, and she was as happy as she could be while dealing with her annoyance over Bella's presence. That had cut down on what could have brought some serious drama to the family, so her snail's pace was a good thing. Alice was upstairs in her studio still working on costumes. Charlotte was with her, putting last minute touches on Peter's, though he'd done the bulk of the work. Esme was at the stove, preparing her latest contribution to the Forks soup kitchen. Bella was at the kitchen counter on a bar stool, scarfing down the chocolate chip pancakes Esme had made her for breakfast. Emmett was sitting next to her, watching her intently. She was on her second helping, and he loved watching her eat. He thought it was absolutely fascinating, claiming he could spend all day doing it. I could spend all day watching her lips wrap around a fork or spoon.

I rolled my eyes at myself. _Must you _always _think about sex?_

_Yep, _the Major answered. I glowered.

I couldn't tell what she thought of my gift. It was nothing special, so she may not have given a shit, or, since I was the one who'd given it to her, she may not have given a shit strictly on principle. She did seem to be in a better mood, but she was still so damn unreadable. I didn't need the reassurance since I really _hadn't _done it for me, but it would have been nice to know I'd been successful. Before I could think on it much more, Bella spoke.

"Is it my pancakes you're eyefucking, Emmett, or is it me?" she asked with a lone eyebrow raised. "I'd like to know before things start to get really awkward."

At the sound of Bella's question, Edward's playing faltered, and I fought back a laugh and a groan. I pointedly ignored everyone else's reactions to avoid any more discomfort than necessary. Keeping my dick under control in her proximity was of the utmost importance after the little chat all the guys and I had had during our "man" hunt the day before.

Emmett let out his typical bellowing laugh, leveling a grin at her when he was done. "Neither," he said. "I've just never seen a girl eat so much in my life."

"What do you mean you've never seen a girl eat like this before? Blondie might be the gold-standard of gorgeous, but she's not a waif," Bella said, and then mumbled under her breath. "And it's a good damn thing too after all the shit I've overheard. I'm surprised you haven't broken the girl in half by now."

I fought hard to keep myself from bursting out laughing, and Carlisle fought off a grin. Peter had no such qualms, letting loose a riot of laughter that echoed through the kitchen. Bella ignored the sound and kept her attention focused on Emmett.

"Are you calling my woman fat?" Emmett asked. He wasn't angry per se, but he wasn't pleased. He didn't take slights to his mate well. Bella didn't appear to be surprised that he'd heard what was meant to be a covert comment, but she always covered shit like that well.

"Did the word 'fat' leave my mouth?" Bella responded with irritation. "Or didn't you notice the part where I called your girlfriend gorgeous even though she's a pain in my ass?"

Emmett's grin was blinding, and he finally focused on the part of the statement Bella made before her last one—the one involving sex. "Oh, my Rosie's very flexible."

Bella grimaced. "My God, Emmett!" she chided in disgust. "There are some things a person just doesn't need to know."

Emmett shrugged. "I can't help that I'm such a stud in bed nor is it my fault you're not getting any, though you could be if you really wanted to," he said idly. Then his expression darkened with menace, "But you'd better not." Bella rolled her eyes. "And I never said Rose didn't eat. I've just never seen a girl eat like _that_," he repeated, gesturing to her nearly empty plate. "I'm trying to figure out how you pack it all down. Do you have a hollow leg? A second or third stomach perhaps?"

Bella exaggeratedly cut into her pancakes, cleaving off a huge bite, stuffing it into her mouth and chewing enthusiastically, throwing in an earnest but fake moan and rolling her eyes partially to the back of her head but not so much that she couldn't keep a cheeky eye contact with Emmett all the while.

_Son of a bitch! _Did she have to constantly do things that made my dick hard? My brothers and "father" were now going to be watching me a bit closer when I interacted with Bella. They didn't actually believe there was anything between us, but their protectiveness of her would still affect that shit after Em's little comment about us "rubbing each other the right way." It would just be fuckin' nice if she'd stop being so inadvertently sexy.

"There is a little, little part of my brain that is offended by that statement," Bella told him flatly. "But the majority doesn't give a rat's ass because these pancakes are magical and absolutely _should _be ogled. The first plate had to be inhaled on the grounds of its divine aroma alone while the second needs to be savored. Therefore, at _least _two plates are necessary. Thanks Mrs. C. You are a kitchen goddess! Oh, and sorry about my language. I'll work on it."

Esme beamed at her, and Bella smiled back. I raised the newspaper so it obscured my face and smiled myself. Maybe it wasn't my birthday gift that had done it, but that didn't matter. She was smiling, and it was beautiful—that was all I'd been after.

"I appreciate that Bella," Esme said.

Bella shrugged noncommittally.

Esme decided not to push her luck with Bella, or so I assumed, because she moved to the table and stopped next to me. She laid her hand on my shoulder, smiling lovingly at me in that way she had of making me feel like a cherished little boy. I still stiffened at her touch but that made it easier.

"Jasper, dear, I was hoping you would help me with the antique roll top desk I picked up in Port Angeles yesterday," she said hopefully. "It's Civil War era."

I grinned at her. "Sure, Mom. That sounds good."

I didn't always call her "Mom." I didn't always feel like I could, but it felt good and right to call her that in that moment. Esme's radiant emotions and smile made my decision all the more worth it.

"We can head to the hardware store after Carlisle goes to work. Everyone else is headed out soon anyway," she said.

Alice needed more supplies and was going to Port Angeles to get them. Edward, of course, was going with her. Em and Rose were going out to do coupley things. Emmett's words, not mine. That was code for going to some random place in the woods to fuck in order to satiate their freak quota for the week. Peter and Charlotte were doing something similar. Bella didn't have to work today—part of the deal she'd made with Laurie was that she had to have one of the days of the weekend off for the purpose of doing homework. She would be alone, and I prayed she wouldn't work on our project by herself. I would do the whole damn thing myself if it kept that desolate look off her face. I wasn't going to tell _her _that though.

"That's perfect," I agreed.

Esme turned back to Bella, worry overtaking her emotions and face. "Are you going to be alright by yourself?"

"I'll be fine, Mrs. Cullen," she promised, holding up the three middle fingers of her right hand with the tips of her pinkie and thumb pressed together. "Scout's honor."

"You wanna take your car or mine?" I asked Esme.

"Whichever you'd like, dear," she responded genially. Esme really was too nice sometimes.

"We'll take yours," I said. Esme had a beautiful Rolls Royce Wraith that she didn't drive nearly enough. I might as well do something to fix that, small though it was.

She smiled at me. "That's thoughtful, sweetheart."

I shrugged, uncomfortable.

I felt a tingling sensation coming from Bella's direction and moved my gaze toward her. She was watching me, the familiar unfathomable look on her face. I cocked a brow in question, but her expression didn't change; there was no embarrassment at being caught or irritation that I was calling her out, albeit silently, with my challenging stare. She just stared right back. We could have done that all day just to see who would cave and look away first—we were certainly both stubborn enough—but Esme was waiting for me, and I wasn't in the mood for a staring contest.

oOo

PPOV

It was going on a month since the vote for Bella to move in, and I still hadn't had my little chat with Papa Cullen. Every time he looked at me, I knew _he _knew it was only a matter of time. Now was that time, and Alice wouldn't see this little confrontation of ours, not because her gift was acting up, but because she only saw what Charlotte and I wanted her to. Jasper wasn't the only one whose mind didn't work the way most other people's did as a result of his time in the Southern Wars. Her's and mine did too. As soldiers embroiled in a constant battle for our lives, we learned to make decisions without actually making decisions, relying on instinct and strategical experience from enough battles fought and survived to make them for us. That's how Alice's gift was flawed. She only saw the outcome of decisions a person consciously made, so Char's and my time in the Wars had served us well in dodging her. It had taken some time to figure out how to do it while not in the heat of the fight, but we'd mastered it in less time than we'd expected to. Jasper's adamant and unyielding desire to protect the Cullens from the horrors of our past had left us with no choice but to learn, and we had to figure out some way to keep his secrets. That was our solution. My Char and I weren't dishonest people, but we liked our privacy, and, in this case, our ability to keep our secrets was especially necessary—Alice had a very hard time concealing her true emotions and keeping her mouth shut, and keeping this puzzle under the radar was important until we solved it. My gift was telling me it was for the good of everyone, but it was not telling me why, and I was fuckin' pissed.

Charlotte and I had been the second ones to leave after Alice and Edward and had come immediately to the hospital. What better place to ambush the good doctor than at his place of work? I didn't have to feel guilty or even uncomfortable for taking him away from sick people because he wasn't here to tend to not so secret cases of gonorrhea husbands hoped to hide from their wives and vice versa or broken bones from embarrassingly stupid, mundane human accidents. He had paperwork to catch up on.

I'd opened up to my mate three days ago, wanting to observe things some before I told her everything. I'd hated keeping Charlotte in the dark. I hadn't kept anything from her since she was a newborn and wasn't yet ready to know everything about Jasper and how interconnected the three of us would be. Now she was in it and just as eager to get to the bottom of shit as I was. We were now in this together just like we always were. The thing that sucked about this situation was that we couldn't involve Jasper. He was undoubtedly mixed up in all of it, but though my gift still wasn't being entirely forthcoming, it and my gut were telling me we couldn't involve him yet. He wasn't ready for whatever this was. He was Jekyll and fuckin' Hyde at the moment and if we involved him now, things would end in disaster. He needed to deal with the shit that was already on his plate before we heaped anything else on to it.

Carlisle Cullen held a puzzle piece to whatever it was that was going on, and he was going to pony up whether he wanted to or not, so Char and I were lounging on the sofa in his office waiting for him to show. After this little interrogation was finished, I was going to take my wife to this little waterfall we'd found several miles into the forest and love her until the only name she could remember was mine. I smirked.

Charlotte knocked her shoulder with mine. "Eyes on the ball, Pete."

I grinned at her. "My eyes _are _on the ball, darlin'."

"No," she contradicted. "Your eyes are on me or, more specifically, the parts of me you'd like to claim later. You need to cut that out, babe."

"You know what a fantastic multitasker I am, " I reminded her cheekily, shooting her a wink. "I am absolutely capable of both."

My Char grinned back at me. "Oh sugar, you absolutely _are _a fantastic multitasker ... except for when all your venom starts rushin' below your belt. Then you can't multitask for shit."

"Can you blame me?" I asked with a shrug, not outright admitting the truth of her statement but certainly not doing my best to corroborate it. "Do you even know how beautiful you are?"

"Of course I do," she responded, her smile turning tender. "You tell me every day, all day long."

"And I will continue to tell you every day, all day long for the rest of eternity," I told her, pulling her in for a kiss.

Just as my tongue met hers, she abruptly pulled away and smacked me hard on the same shoulder she'd bumped before. "What did I say about focusing?"

_She is so fuckin' sexy when she's fiery, but that hurt!_

"Goddamn woman!" I pouted. "Do you have to hit so fuckin' hard?"

"Yes," she replied. "Apparently I do."

I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed.

"Just be patient, sugar," she mollified with a tiny grin. "I'll treat you right later."

My eyebrows flashed up for an instant in interest, and I smirked. "I'm gonna hold you to that, darlin'."

"When do I ever break my word?"

That was a question she shouldn't have had to ask. My Char never broke her word. "Fair point, sugar."

Our conversation on that particular topic came to an end at that point—Carlisle's scent permeated the hallway as he came through the double doors that led to the one where his office was located. It was time to get down to business.

"Eyes on the ball, Pete," Charlotte warned so quietly I doubted Papa Cullen heard, her eyes flashing.

"I know it's game time," I assured her just as quietly. "And I know this is serious shit, darlin'. I'll treat it as such."

She gave me a nod. Despite her admonition, she'd always known just how serious I knew this was and how seriously I took it.

When Carlisle walked through his office door he was unsurprised to see us there. I had no scent for him to pick up, but he'd smelled Charlotte just as surely as we had smelled him, and where Charlotte was, I was never far behind. That wasn't the only reason he wasn't in shock. Even if he was, Carlisle Cullen had an excellent poker face, but he'd known this was coming.

He didn't bother with hellos or pleasantries. I was okay with that.

"I was wondering when you would come to me," he said as he made his way behind his desk and took a seat. He folded his hands on the wood surface and devoted all of his attention to the two of us. "I suppose your intention was to make me sweat."

I smiled, broad and lazy. "That was the idea, Doc."

"It worked," he informed me, returning my smile with amusement and relief but also some dread. He did have an excellent poker face but only when he wanted to have one. He was an honest man and rarely tried to hide his emotions and motives, so he rarely ever used it. "I imagine you were hoping it would be a bit more effective though. Were you expecting that I might come to you instead?"

"Nope," I said, still smiling. "I much prefer ambushes, as you can see."

"I can."

"So, Carlisle," Charlotte interjected, speaking for the first time. "I think it's time you come clean, don't you?"

"Yes, I suppose it is," he agreed calmly.

"You lied to me," I started out, going straight for the jugular. I didn't know that for sure, but it was better to begin by showing strength rather than weakness. Carlisle wasn't my enemy, but I was still looking to extract very much needed information from him. He had to understand who was in charge here, and it wasn't him.

His expression turned remorseful.

"I did," he admitted with no hesitation, still as composed as ever in spite of his remorse. If Carlisle Cullen had one flaw, it was that he was honest to a fault.

"You'd better tell me why," I said, just as composed, though that was not a suggestion. Angry wasn't the right word for how I felt about his admission. I didn't often get angry about much, but I _did _need to understand his reasoning. "Given you led me to believe my gift was faulty in that instance, Doc, you owe me that much."

"You're right about that," he agreed again. "And I do apologize for my deception. I've never felt proud of misleading you, but I made a choice, and I've had to live with it. The personal consequences of that choice haven't been pleasant."

"For a man who values honesty as much as you do, I believe you when you say that," my Char replied, knowing I felt the same way. She always seemed to know how to put my thoughts into words. We didn't always share the same views or opinions on things, but she still understood exactly how my mind worked. "However, we may not see eye-to-eye on those consequences, dependin' on the information you've kept from us."

I doubted we'd do anything about his keeping shit from us. Everyone kept secrets; everyone had a right to them, but these were secrets we needed to know, and Charlotte's statement was more strategy-based than anything else. It was a way to get the information we were after. I didn't particularly like making power plays with Carlisle Cullen—I truly liked the guy—but it was what it was. We needed this shit both for the greater good and for Jasper, and when it came to Jasper, it didn't matter whether or not we liked you. He came first, _always_, even when he was being a dick of epic fuckin' proportions, and I was not shy about calling him out on that shit. He needed _someone _to keep him in line.

Plus, I really would have liked to know what the fuck was up with my gift. If whatever Carlisle was hiding could shed light on that, then we were going to weasel it out of him.

Carlisle nodded thoughtfully.

"Before I give you an explanation for my actions, there are some things you need to understand," he told us.

"Alright," I replied evenly.

"Keeping the truth from you wasn't a decision I made lightly, Peter," Carlisle intoned, meeting both Charlotte's and my gazes. "I did have reasons for making it, and I will share as many details behind those reasons as I can, but there are circumstances that won't permit me to tell you everything."

My eyebrows rose in surprise. Charlotte's features were twisted into an expression that bore a similar emotion.

"Carlisle," she protested. "We know you well enough to have figured you had to have had good reasons, but you _have _to tell us everything. It isn't an option for you not to."

He sighed. "As I've already said, I can't tell you everything. I am truly sorry," he reiterated, his sincerity radiating out of him. "But my hands are tied. I will tell you what I can but no more than that."

I could see that Carlisle was dead-set on keeping to his declaration, so we would play along for now. After he shared all the information he intended to give us willingly, Charlotte and I would proceed from there, but he _would _tell us the rest.

I met my mate's eyes, we shared a meaningful look, and I knew she understood where my mind had gone. That look told me she had come to the same conclusion. We nodded in agreement and returned our attention to Carlisle, whose poker face was now in place. He may not know what we had in store specifically, but he knew we were planning something because that was who we were. We had never hidden that, and while my gift told me that he wasn't going to lie to us anymore, he was definitely on his guard.

"Start at the beginning," I suggested easily but with an underlying air of authority.

"I went to Louisville just as you told me to," he said. "And I attended the medical conference while listening to the news for any breaking stories on wildfires in the area."

"Go on," I urged.

"As you know, there were no wildfires while I was there, and there haven't been since I left, but your gift was right," he admitted. "I did need to go there."

"Why's that, Doc?" Charlotte asked in genuine curiosity. We were both listening intently, waiting.

"The wildfire wasn't a fire in the literal sense," Carlisle revealed. "It was a horse."

"A horse?" I questioned in mild disbelief. Since the details had been so fuzzy, I probably shouldn't have been surprised because it really could have been anything, but a _horse_?

"A racehorse, specifically," he confirmed, nodding. "I just happened to come across an article in the newspaper, strictly by chance, about a horse of that name becoming a contender for the Triple Crown. Since I had yet to hear any news of an actual wildfire, I decided to check it out. It was a lead, and since you were so vague …"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. I didn't actually _know _shit for certain, so you had to cover all your bases," I griped. "It's what I would have done." I waved my hand in an impatient circle. "Carry on."

"When I got to Churchill Downs to investigate, it became startlingly clear why you sent me to Louisville," Carlisle said.

"Which was?" Charlotte prompted impatiently.

"Bella," he replied. "Bella was there in Wildfire's stall. I can't tell you anything beyond that. I promised her I wouldn't, and I'm bound by that promise in more ways than one."

If I understood what Carlisle was implying, Bella had needed some sort of medical attention, and he was bound by his oath as a doctor not to break doctor-patient confidentiality. Things were starting to make a lot more fuckin' sense.

"You should also have gotten a good enough idea of who Bella is by now to know that if she finds out I've broken my promise to her, she won't hesitate to leave," Carlisle continued meaningfully. "And I have a very uncomfortable suspicion that if I violate my word, she'll find out somehow."

A sideways glance to Charlotte only confirmed what I was already aware of. My mate and I both had no doubt that if Bella believed she'd been betrayed by Carlisle that she would leave in an instant. We also agreed with Carlisle. I wasn't sure how, but she most likely would find out and take off. That could not happen, and it meant we couldn't force his hand. _Damn it!_

"She can't leave, Carlisle," I returned with explicit finality.

"I agree," he said. "But my reasons are surely different from yours. I know I don't have the right, but may I ask what yours are?"

"I'm no fuckin' clearer on that than I was on why I sent you to Louisville," I confessed irritably. "All I know is that Bella _needs _to be here. She can_not _leave."

I was debating on whether or not to throw Jasper's name into the mix, but Carlisle had accepted us into his home without knowing all the specifics of the motives behind our request. I wouldn't tell him what Jasper was currently going through—that needed to come from Jasper himself—but I still needed to say something. Then again, Jasper was on the verge of deciding to confess his struggles to the head of the family anyway. Charlotte had told me she'd encouraged him to do so after his near attack on Rosalie, and with how the confrontation between him and Edward had gone the previous day, the odds were swinging in that direction. That wasn't all that was convincing me though. My gift was telling me too. Though it didn't always tell me everything, when it _did _tell me shit, it didn't just inform me of big things but also of small ones. While to most, Jasper opening up might have been considered a small thing, it was actually fuckin' huge.

"To be honest," I continued seriously. "I've always wondered if Bella had something to do with why you lied."

Carlisle's eyebrows shot up comically, and he almost lost his composure. "Why would you wonder that?"

"For several reasons," I answered with nonchalance. "Alice has never been able to see her. When Jasper ended up in Louisville on his road trip, his future disappeared from her view, and my grasp on what I _just __knew _about things in regard to him went fuckin' hinky. When I sent you to Louisville, I had no idea why you needed to go there, and Alice didn't see that you didn't really go to Chicago because her gift was actin' up as well. That does happen to her on occasion, but aside from the wolves, she has never met anyone else she can't see, and my gift may not always give me all the details, but except for when I was extremely new to this life, it has never failed me ... until Bella. If my gift led you to her, even if it didn't tell me why, that means she's important. You have to have realized this."

"Yes, I have," Carlisle said, and then he frowned. "Are you saying you think Jasper and Bella ran into each other in Louisville?"

"That is exactly what we're saying. Why else would his future have disappeared?" my Char asked.

"That's an awful lot of fuckin' coincidence, wouldn't you say?" I chimed in. I didn't really believe in coincidence, though the occasional one here and there was possible I supposed, but mostly I found it to be a bullshit concept.

"If they did run into each other, why haven't they said anything?" he queried in confusion, still frowning. His doctor's need to figure things out was kicking in, and we were finally on the same page.

"Who the hell knows, Carlisle?" my Char responded. "But I'm guessin' they have their reasons for not sayin' anything just as much as you had yours for lyin' to us."

"Shouldn't we confront them about it the same way you've confronted me?" he asked.

"Absolutely not," I answered immediately. "I think Bella would consider that pryin' and grounds for takin' off. Jasper has never shared everything with me, but he generally tells me the weird shit, and runnin' into her would definitely qualify. Since he hasn't, that means he either isn't ready to talk about it or he _can't _talk about it. There are some things I can force his hand on, but this isn't one of them. And before you ask, it's something I _just know_."

Carlisle nodded in confused understanding.

"I can't help but think that whatever happened between them there is why they're so damn hostile towards each other," my Char theorized astutely. "Some people really don't mesh the way Jasper believes they don't, but I don't think that's it. The former idea is the only thing that makes sense."

"I agree," I said.

"That is a possibility," Carlisle mused. "But I'm not entirely convinced. Bella and Rosalie had a nasty confrontation the first time they met, and while Rosalie's attitude hasn't improved much, Bella hasn't been overtly hostile with her. Jasper's attitude with Bella has been relatively mild, but she's continually on the attack with him. Those two attitudes are inconsistent, so it's possible he's right. Maybe they really do just clash. Bella is a good kid, but she's shown that she doesn't always play well with others, and Jasper is most definitely similar in that respect. I love him dearly, but you have to admit that."

"Oh, I can admit that very easily," I said. I was an honest bastard, and Carlisle was right. The Major _didn't _always play well with others, but that was just fine in my book. If everyone liked you, it meant you were boring as fuck. Besides, when you'd been through what he'd been through, it was impossible to get along with everyone. "Whichever it is doesn't strictly matter at the moment."

Carlisle's features twisted into an even deeper confusion. Even Charlotte didn't seem to understand. "Oh, it matters alright," I assured them. "But there are other things that matter just as much, if not more."

"Where's your head at, babe?" my Char questioned.

"Bella is not your average human," I pointed out. "That's another thing I'm sure you've noticed." I directed my statement at Carlisle. Charlotte was a given. He nodded. "She doesn't carry herself like a typical seventeen year old. She's aware in a way most people aren't, she can think on her feet in a snap, and she is crazy smart, Carlisle. As you know, she keeps her room locked up tight, but the other day when she took a bathroom break, she left the door cracked. I wasn't pryin', but I walked by and happened to get a glimpse of the inside. What I saw ..." I paused, trying to think how to phrase it. "... Carlisle there was a seriously high-tech computer in there that she did not have when she moved in, that she never took off long enough to go buy, and even if she had, there's no way in hell it's something she could have bought in a store. She could have had all the parts for it packed in those boxes though. All that time she spent locked away in her room, all the strange smells—she built that shit, Doc, and she did it in three fuckin' days. She also built some other things, and I don't have the first fuckin' clue what any of it is. There are genius humans out there whose IQs can sometimes rival vampires, which is another thing you already know, so while those things set her apart, they aren't what make her truly abnormal."

Carlisle looked uneasy with where I was taking the conversation but was also soaking up my words with avid interest. My Char knew exactly what I meant, and once I began to explain, he would realize he knew it too.

"She's met four gifted vampires, and she has managed to either completely block or disrupt each one of our gifts," I elaborated. Carlisle's face lit up with comprehension, but I could tell it wasn't a new thought. His expression turned grave, and so did Charlotte's. "You spent enough time with the Volturi to know how rare it is for a gifted _vampire _to be able to block another's gift but for a human to have that ability? It's unheard of, especially if you take into consideration just how varied all of our gifts are."

"Yes, that has crossed my mind," he confessed.

"I figured as much," I said.

"Do you think that's why she needs to be here and why so many of us have become so fond of her so quickly?" Carlisle asked.

"It's possible, but I just don't fuckin' _know_," I enunciated, so frustrated I gripped my hair and tugged hard. Charlotte placed her hand on my knee and squeezed. I gave her a weak smile, finding a sense of comfort in the gesture. It didn't last long, my scowl returning with a vengeance seconds later. "I hate not fuckin' knowin'! It's buggin' the shit outta me, quite frankly."

There was a chance this situation wasn't that serious, that we were blowing it way out of proportion, but we couldn't be certain of that. Therefore, I was a little offended when Carlisle took on a slight air of amusement. I didn't know what the hell that was about.

"I can understand your frustration," he said sympathetically. "But I don't see the point in getting worked up over it when there's nothing we can do to make things any clearer."

I crossed my arms over my chest, too stubborn to admit that Carlisle was right just yet. I was a laid back guy it was true, but I was fuckin' irritated. In my peripheral vision, I noticed the contemplative expression decorating my Char's face. Whatever she was thinking about, it was deep and relevant. She was a sharp woman, and once she got an idea in her head, it rarely ever failed to shed light on the issue at hand.

"What's goin' through that busy head of yours, darlin'?" I asked tenderly, running my thumb over her cheek as she angled her body towards mine.

"Jasper has always believed that gifts aren't perfect," she began. "He's always said that eventually there comes a time when a gifted vampire has to figure out how to survive without their gift, even it's only for a very short while, and that there are certain things a person just shouldn't be able to figure out with that kind of aid, like Alice not havin' visions of Edward bein' her mate. It took me a little while to agree with him, but I do now. Alice's gift glitching, yours goin' off kilter, proves that theory to a point, but there _is _one thing we're not accounting for, babe."

"What's that, darlin'?"

"We definitely know she caused a glitch in your gift in Louisville, but we have no way of knowin' if she's blocking it now. You've always said that you either just know shit or you don't, that there's no forcin' it. What if you're just not meant to know?" She mused. "Or ... what if you're just not meant to know _yet_?"

"Darlin', you're a genius," I crowed.

My Char shrugged. "I'm just lookin' at things from all possible angles."

"I know, sugar," I said, placing my hand over the one of hers on my knee and beaming at her with pride and love. "Not bein' able to figure out which it is is still annoying and fuckin' frustrating though."

"That may be so," Carlisle spoke up. "But at least we've got a better grasp on what could be going on. The more aware we are of the possibilities of the situation, the better prepared we can be for whatever comes our way, which could very well be nothing."

"I don't think so," I disagreed. "My gift isn't perfect, especially at the moment, but it _is _givin' me the feeling that this isn't nothin'."

"Well, then," Carlisle said. "This isn't nothing. You've never led us astray before, Peter. Glitching gift or not, I don't believe you'll start now. Whatever this is, we'll figure it out. Until we do, we've got to do our best to make Bella feel welcome and at home because when it comes down to it, no matter the underlying issue, our primary goal hasn't changed. It is still our number one priority to relieve her of as much of the adult burdens she's had to carry for God only knows how long and let her be a kid, to take care of her in a way I don't believe she has been for a very long time. If we can do that, the rest will fall into place."

"Things should proceed as usual then, shouldn't they?" Charlotte thought aloud. "You can't reveal that you saw Bella in Louisville because of the promise you made her, and we can't let on that we even know you made her a promise in the first place. Other than Rosalie's attitude problem and her issues with Jasper, everyone else has been perfectly welcoming."

Carlisle cocked an eyebrow. "The two of you have been on the neutral side."

Charlotte's gaze narrowed. "I've remained remarkably civil. I've even managed a modicum of warmth towards the girl despite how awful she is to my brother. When she gets over whatever the hell it is she has against him, I'll consider tradin' in my neutrality for something a little more cheery, but right now that's the best I can do. The sad thing is, I could really like Bella if she would just ease the fuck off."

"I joke around with her as much as I can get away with and still unconditionally prove my loyalty to the Major," I said. I liked Bella to a certain degree, much more than any other human I'd ever met, felt protective of her, but I did not fuckin' like the way she treated Jasper either. Maybe if I knew what her reason for it was, I would be less inclined to be pissed at her for making him _more_ miserable when he was already fuckin' miserable, but at the same time he was responding to her in ways that were good as well. He had made some progress since she'd moved in. For that, I could not hate her. For that, I had to kind of love her, but he was still so fuckin' tense and on edge, and he still couldn't project. The longer that shit went on, the more dangerous he became. The only reason he hadn't fuckin' snapped yet was because he was currently surrounded by mated couples who gave off shitloads of pure, unadulterated love. Soon, not even that would be enough. "I'm hopin' she'll come around soon … for both their sakes."

Carlisle sighed. "So do I."

oOo

**A/N:** Okay, guys! There we have it! Bella and Emmett had a little bit of brother/sister breakfast bonding, and Peter finally confronted Carlisle. They hashed some things out and did some brainstorming. Pieces are being put together! :)

Brace yourself for next week's Halloween shenanigans ladies and gents! I promised some Emmett and Peter hijinks when Peter and Charlotte moved to Forks but have yet to deliver. I believe that next week makes up for that in spades. ;)

Take care! Until next time ...


	36. Chapter 29 Part 1 Outtake

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm only borrowing her characters for a little while. The plot and original characters of Longing do belong to me, however. Jasper as the God of War and Peter "just knowing shit" are ideas that belong to Idreamofeddy.

Thank you to my lovely sister, Shelljayz, who pre-reads/betas for me and has a huge hand in so many aspects of this story, and thank you so much to Laurie Whitlock, my fabulous beta and friend. I love you both!

So, I know in the last chapter I said that I would sometimes have to post an outtake in place of an actual chapter to make sure I get to post continuously. I haven't yet reached that point, and I was gone for awhile, so I thought I would give you something extra to tide you over until the Halloween shenanigans. :)

Remember back in chapter 24, when Bella went to the masquerade ball?

oOo

_Sunday, October 31st, 2080_

BPOV

It was now nearly thirty-three minutes after nine, and I was home alone. Alice and Edward had been gone for forty minutes, leaving almost immediately after my exchange with Emmett ended. Peter and Charlotte left for wherever it was they were going eight minutes after that. Jasper and Esme left two minutes later, Carlisle following just thirty-seven seconds behind them, while Emmett and Rosalie took off twelve minutes after that and just fifteen seconds ago. I was grateful for the solitude. I liked living with the Cullens despite certain … irritations … but I was doing my best to avoid admitting just how much. Still, their presence became as stifling as it had just a week ago at times, and I needed another break. Also, I had something I needed to do, something that would be far better done in an empty house.

My computer was still running the search on Jane Doe, so my hands were tied in that regard, but they hadn't been idle. In spite of my evil history teacher's assignment that was specifically designed to torture me and the fact that I'd scored a job before I'd intentionally begun looking for one, those things hadn't filled up the nights and early mornings I didn't spend sleeping. I didn't feel I could start openly puttering around until at least six o'clock in the morning for the purpose of averting suspicion. I could tell every time I looked at him that Dr. Cullen was dying to get me back in an exam room to check over the injuries he'd treated so many weeks ago. I couldn't let him do that, and I was grateful to high heaven he couldn't force me to, but if he found out I rarely slept, he would ask questions I wouldn't be able to answer. Therefore, I cultivated a cover and nurtured it. It gave me plenty of time to work on Jane's case or it would once I figured out who she was. Since I was at a standstill with her, I had used those free hours to look into other things. Now I was tying up loose ends.

It was 12:33 pm in New York, and it was a good time to make the call. He wouldn't be expecting it so early. It was possible he wasn't expecting it at all, but I doubted that—he was more of a dumbass than I assumed if he wasn't. Either way, I didn't think many calls made for the purpose of blackmail took place during daylight hours. It made more sense that they would occur in the dead of night. That had a more skeezy and nefarious feel to it.

I dialed the number and waited. The phone rang once, twice, three times before he answered.

"Hello." He sounded tired and on edge. That was good. It would make my job easier.

"Hello, Connor," I purred.

Connor Jameson sighed on the other end of the line, clearly annoyed and impatient. "Look lass, I'm afraid I don't have time—"

He didn't recognize my voice. The drugs I'd given him had worked better than I ever could have dreamed.

"You'll want to send whichever chick you're screwing packing, tuck it back in your pants and _make _time." My words were a smartass snipe but they had a deadly, threatening quality to them as well. I was goading him, but it was necessary to get him riled up. That way it would be all the more effective when I yanked the rug out from underneath him. It worked.

"Look," Connor growled, his Irish accent coming out particularly strong even with that one word. It only got stronger. "I never make promises to the women I bring home, which means I didn't make any promises to _you_. If you were interesting enough to stick in my memory, I would have called you for a replay. From the tone of your voice, it's obvious I haven't, so do yourself a favor and get a fucking clue."

"You think I'm one of your conquests!" I forced myself to laugh. It really was funny, but it was also vomit-inducing so it was difficult to do that, keep my gag reflex under control, and stop the almost uncontrollable shudders. I remembered what his slimy hands felt like on my skin at the masquerade ball. Once I put those things out of my head, the laughter came easily. "That is _hilarious_!"

Connor huffed in agitation.

_Oh! Did I hurt your ego, Connor? Poor douchey baby! _It was on the tip of my tongue, but I managed not to say it.

"What do you want?" he snapped.

"You sound irritated, Connor ... distracted, paranoid, nervous," I observed. I knew for a fact that he was because I was watching him. I had planted a wireless camera with a signal so low it wouldn't register if he scanned for security breaches and that sort of thing. "Maybe you're not irritated because I interrupted your afternoon lay and maybe you're paranoid, nervous and distracted because you're missing something."

Connor's eyes widened to the size of saucers. He looked ridiculous, but I didn't laugh. Now was not the time. "I'm not missing anything. I don't know what you're talking about. I don't even know who you are."

I smirked even though he couldn't see me. Before I left his house of forgery and debauchery, I'd swiped his client list. I had been impressed with his work before but the way he'd set up his books and kept the records of his customers amplified it. He was still a fucking dumbass in most respects, but that was rather ingenious. The whole thing was handwritten in three separate, thick ledgers, penned in a very complicated and unique code, one I could only assume he'd come up with himself. That code could only be deciphered if one was in possession of all three ledgers. I _was _in possession of all three and _had _cracked that code. I now knew every single one of Connor Jameson's clients, every identity he'd forged at their behest, and each sum he'd collected for them. I was also currently in the process of searching out each and every one of those aliases and all the crimes associated with them, storing it all in an encrypted file labeled "English Homework." If anyone ever managed to crack my security, "Da Vinci" was a potentially dead giveaway.

"I think you know exactly what I'm talking about," I said.

"I don't know anything, and neither do you," he responded, the slightest trickle of anxiety marring his tone.

"I know that names are important …" _Thank you, Jasper Whitlock_** "**... and that the name 'Da Vinci' is of _vital _importance to you."

All the blood drained from Connor's face, making his pale Irish skin look downright pasty. It was not attractive. There wasn't really anything about him that was. "'Da Vinci' is the name of an exquisite artist and Renaissance man. It has no significance to me beyond that."

But his voice was shaking the slightest bit. It was barely noticeable but definitely there. "Ah, ah, ah," I tsked. "I don't like liars, Mr. Jameson."

"I am not a liar! Who the hell are you?" he demanded, his fury temporarily taking over his trepidation. "How did you get this number? What the fuck do you want, and what's to keep me from hanging up on you right this instant? This is harassment, you know! I can trace this phone call in a heartbeat and file charges!"

"The first two things are unimportant," I replied calmly. "You won't hang up on me because you're too fucking terrified that I might _actually _know something to risk it. You can't trace this phone call because it's a burner phone, and you can't file charges for harassment if you can't prove there was harassment in the first place. You wouldn't risk it anyway. Honestly, what would you say? 'I'm the master forger 'Da Vinci,' and a woman called, claiming to have stolen my client list?' You're stupid, but you're not _that _stupid. Besides, harassment is such an ugly word. One could even go so far as to call it _dirty_. I prefer the term 'incentive'. It sounds so much prettier, so much _cleaner_, don't you think?"

Silence.

"We'll get to what I want in a minute," I said. "What we need to do now is get something straight."

More silence.

"This is the part where you ask, 'what would that be?'"

Silence still.

"Come on, Connor. It's impolite to keep a lady waiting. What would your mother say?" I chided. It was a low blow. Connor's mother was dead and had been since he was nine. They had been very close, and her death had devastated him. It stood to reason he was the man he was today because of his grief over it, if one bought into the nurture of the nature vs. nurture theory.

"Do not speak of my mother!" he spat.

"Ask the question, and I won't mention her again," I promised wholeheartedly. My purpose for this phone call was a serious one but that didn't mean I had to rub more salt in that wound than necessary.

"What would that be?" he growled.

"We need to establish that no matter how much you deny your alter ego, that denial won't change things," I answered. "I still know who you really are, you still know it, so we might as well save ourselves all the energy and trouble of arguing over that truth and just get down to things."

Connor's expression darkened. I rolled my eyes, impatient. I knew six of the seven Cullen teens would be gone until it came time to get ready for trick-or-treating. Dr. Cullen would be at the hospital for a few hours since it wasn't an official shift for him. He had some paperwork to catch up on, but he would be back in time to get gussied up for Halloween as well. What I _didn't _know was how long Jasper and Mrs. Cullen would be out. They hadn't specified if they were going to the hardware store in Forks, which was a poor excuse for one, or the one in Port Angeles, nor did I know exactly how long it would take them to find and buy all of the supplies they needed. Considering all of the Cullens drove like bats out of hell, I couldn't be sure how much time I had to put the fear of God into Connor Jameson. I was off to a good start, but this was a delicate process, and it had to stick.

I was already in front of my computer, so with a few clicks of the mouse, I had his balls in a vice grip. He just didn't know it yet, but he was about to. "Check your email."

"What?" he asked, my request clearly having thrown him for a loop.

"Check. Your. Email."

He clicked on the speakerphone option on his cell and trudged to his laptop, laying it beside the computer so he could do as I'd ordered. It took him several minutes to peruse the message I sent him but it only took a couple lines of reading for his already pale face to go even whiter. He looked like he was going to pass out.

"_Please _argue with me now," I dared him. I'd sent him photos of his ledgers, PDF files of their contents and my code-cracking as well as all the other evidence against him I'd compiled so far.

"What do you want?" he breathed, now sounding appropriately terrified.

"I'm glad you're coming around, Connor," I said, not hiding my smugness. He snorted weakly. "What I want is for you to spend a good long time in prison making good 'friends' with a bunch of White Supremacists, but I can't have what I want. See, if I turn over this evidence, which I'm not done collecting by the way, you won't go to prison. Under the statutes of the Safe Citizens Act, you'll get the death penalty," I elaborated, and Connor gulped. "As much as you might deserve that, I'm not real keen on having your death weighing my conscience down. You're a bastard with serious daddy issues, but I don't want your blood on my hands."

_I already have too much._

"So what will you do?" he asked warily.

"It's called blackmail, lad," I quipped, mimicking his accent. "I'm going to make a deal with you … actually, that's not entirely true. I'm going to dictate the terms of a verbal contract, which is being recorded, and you are going to abide those terms. If you fail to do so, I don't have to consider your inevitable execution my fault because our contract will be null and void. I will have given you a warning, and you will not have heeded it. It's a 'you made your bed and now you have to lie in it' sort of thing. It absolves me of all guilt, and I can go to sleep at night not giving a fuck."

I couldn't just let Connor Jameson continue to get away with his crimes. He wasn't the one out there killing people, dealing drugs, promoting prostitution and human trafficking, gun running, or all that other glorious illegal shit, but he was facilitating it. That made him an accessory to all those crimes, and I couldn't just stand by and let it continue when I was in his house with access to his client list and the perfect opportunity to put a stop to it. It could've been one of the ways I was trying to make up for what I'd done to Jane or maybe it was just me being a good samaritan. I did that from time to time, stopping a mugging or a rape or whatever if I came across one in progress, but my shenanigans in Louisville and now this were much bigger and more complicated situations. Still, I had to do it.

"What are the terms of this verbal contract?" he asked stiffly.

"They're not terribly complicated," I began. "From your ledgers and my calculations, you've made a pretty penny in profit from your criminal endeavors and, according to your bank records, you haven't spent any of it. All of it is split up into six different accounts, each under the guise of a shell corporation, in the Caymans, is it not?"

Connor choked. "How the fuck do you know that?"

I smiled. "Because I'm brilliant, and I made it my job to know it, douchebag. Anyway, you're going to take that money, including its substantial interest and donate all of it to the list of charities I'm going to send you."

He let out a breath of relief as if he thought I was stopping there. _Stupid fucker!_

"Your family owns a business empire worth billions," I continued. "And from further probing into your financials, it seems that even though Daddy Seamus doesn't love you …" Connor hissed and flinched as though I'd slapped him at those words, "... he still gives you your fair share of the companies' profits, which amount to somewhere in the neighborhood of half a billion dollars a year. I will leave you a generous $450,000 dollars a year of that to live off of, which is just enough for you to keep up airs."

Connor balked.

"Hey now!" I admonished sternly. "I could have left you with nothing. Now, as I was saying, the rest of that money will go to programs that will help aid the families whose lives you've helped ruin—things like college scholarship programs, grief counseling and anything that might make their lives even a little better—as well as to fund investigations to put your clients behind bars …" He gasped. I might not be turning over the evidence against him, but, one by one, each alias he'd dreamed up would be dropped to some law enforcement agency via anonymous tip until there were no more aliases left to reveal. By process of elimination as to who could have given them up, his clients might eventually be gunning for him whether they were in prison or not. "Once your clients have been caught, that money will continue to fund the programs for the families of your clients' victims as well as to charities of my choosing. Lastly, you're going to give up 'Da Vinci,'" I said firmly, my tone deadly and brooking no argument. "You're going to leave that life and profession behind and do something more productive with yourself, maybe even worthwhile and in the service of others rather than yourself. You know, give back and all that jazz."

Connor scoffed. "Do you have any idea the people I work for? They won't just let me retire! They don't know who I am now, and they're okay with that because my anonymity means I'm more likely not to get caught and sent to prison, which keeps them stocked in false identities, but if I give them a reason to try to figure who I am? It would take awhile but some of them have the means to potentially do it, and if they ever did—"

"See? You just proved me right about your intelligence," I mocked. "That is not my problem," I said coldly. "You've managed to keep your true identity a secret for nearly a decade, and if you think some of those people wouldn't have wanted to know for the purpose of leverage, you're an idiot. Many of your clients have probably already tried to find out who you really are, and you would know if they were successful because they would have made sure you were aware they had your balls in a vice grip ... and yet here you are, balls vice free, from them at least. I don't see what you're bitching about."

He was shaking. From his expression, I could tell it was from a combination of fear and outrage.

"I'm giving you the opportunity to turn things around for yourself, Connor," I continued seriously. "People rarely get second chances, and it's certainly a chance you don't deserve. Don't fuck it up."

The only sound on the other end of the line was his labored breathing. He looked and sounded like he was going to hyperventilate.

"If you slip even once," I threatened, "all that evidence goes to the Feds, and we both know that's suicide. Do you understand?"

Silence.

"What did I say about keeping a lady waiting?" I asked sweetly. Connor growled, but his fear was evident. "Do you understand?"

"I-I understand," he stammered.

"If you try to trace the IP address of that email or attempt to figure out who I am, both of which you _will _fail at, I will turn over the evidence," I added. "Do you understand _that_?"

"Y-yes."

I smiled. "Good boy."

His breathing was still harsh and labored.

"Look on the bright side, Connor," I said cheerily. "Cleaning up your act may not be by your own choice, but who knows? Maybe once you're living on the straight and narrow and actually doing something worthwhile, daddy might even learn to love you. Hell, you might even enjoy the plain, old, boring vanilla life!"

A whoosh of air echoed in my ear.

"Do as I say," I told him, "and we'll never speak again. Fuck things up and we will. You don't want that, Connor."

I hung up after that. I'd made my point, and from the expression on his face, Connor Jameson had gotten it.

oOo

**A/N:** Yeah, so we all know that Bella isn't the kind of person to have let Connor Jameson get away with what he was doing since it was helping criminals. It was a loose end I felt the need to wrap up. I hope you don't mind. :)

I must thank ValkyrieNyght for providing me with a realistic number for Bella to leave Connor with as income in her blackmail scheme. I would also like to thank Christinarsls.


	37. Chapter 29 Part 2: Halloween

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm only borrowing her characters for a little while. The plot and original characters of Longing do belong to me, however. Jasper as the God of War and Peter "just knowing shit" are ideas that belong to Idreamofeddy.

Thanks to my beloved sister Shelljayz, my beta, prereader, best friend, and who was instrumental in helping me write and edit this chapter. Thank you to Laurie Whitlock, my fabulous beta and friend. Also, a huge thanks to juliangelus for prereading. Your feedback was invaluable.

I so appreciate each and every one of you who have read, followed, favorited and reviewed Longing. I have now reached just over 600 reviews, which is nothing short of awesome.

**Something that needs to be clarified:** Though I have gone in to great detail about how capable and knowledgeable Bella is of killing, she has not actually killed anyone. Though having blood on one's hands does mean that you've killed someone and she had that inner thought in the outtake, it means something different to her, though not far off the true meaning—something that will be explored further later on.

So finally, the true Halloween part of the Halloween chapter! I have to admit I'm just a bit nervous about this, but I hope you'll find Emmett and Peter's plans for trick-or-treating funny.

oOo

_Sunday, October 31st, 2080_

_Later that afternoon ..._

BPOV

"What is this, Alice?" I asked.

In a sense, I already knew what it was. Emmett and Peter had decided it was their job to pop my Halloween cherry and were taking me trick-or-treating. It was supposed to be a surprise, but I'd known practically since they'd hatched the idea. Therefore, I understood that the outfit I was holding was a costume. I just had no clue what the hell it was.

"It's a Halloween costume!" Alice chirped brightly, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

I had known before I moved in that Carlisle and Esme Cullen broke the mold when it came to liberal parenting, but I hadn't expected them to go so far as to let their coupled-off children share bedrooms, and that's where we were: Edward and Alice's bedroom. It was where she'd been keeping my costume.

Edward was perched on their bed, looking on at his girlfriend with a fondness that seemed entirely too deep for a seventeen year old boy. He moved his eyes to me and gave me an apologetic smile and a half-shrug that told me he'd been on the receiving end of an Alice fashion ambush.

"That I can see, Betty," I replied. "But what _is _it?"

"Betty?" she queried, her face scrunching in confusion.

I lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Sometimes when I look at you and you go all 'Bouncy Miss,' oddly, all I can think to equate you to is Betty Boop on speed."

"Betty Boop on speed," she mused. "That one's new ... I like it!" she proclaimed enthusiastically, grinning and letting out a musical giggle. Edward was also grinning and laughing. They made this sickeningly perfect harmony that I couldn't decide if I liked or found grating.

Since I found myself smiling back, I guessed it was the former. I, however, did _not _giggle. The Cullens were making it way too fucking hard not to like them. _Goddamn it!_

"You're a Mord-Sith," Alice said, finally answering my question.

"As in a _Sword of Truth _Mord-Sith?" I asked, but I could see it now. The blood red, skin-tight leather catsuit with the yellow crescent and star across the stomach, the thick, off-hip, tooled red leather belt with the many buckles that connected to the matching weapon's sheath which wrapped around the upper right thigh and housed an Agiel—a thin, red leather rod with a delicate gold chain at one end meant to clasp around its owner's wrist—it was definitely a Mord-Sith costume.

"Yeah." She looked anxious as I studied the outfit. When I made no further comment, she rushed on, "You just mentioned you like those books in the car on the way to Seattle and it seemed like a good idea. It was between a Mord-Sith and a Confessor because, you know, they're both badass, but the Mord-Sith outfit sounded sluttier, and it's Halloween and girls _always _dress slutty unless you're a nun. I know they're kind of evil in the first book, but they're good in the rest of them, and even if they weren't, _lots _of people dress up as evil things for Halloween—"

"Alice," I interrupted, putting her out of her misery and stopping her nervous rambling. "It's fine."

"Really?" she squeaked.

"Really," I assured her and then smiled. "It's pretty cool actually."

Alice let out a sigh of relief and beamed at me. "Oh, good! That's good."

Edward came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I told you it would be fine, love."

Alice sagged back against her boyfriend and let out a happy, contented little sigh. Edward smiled and kissed the top of her head.

_Gag! _It may have made me want to vomit, but it was sweet, and they were happy, so I decided I needed to let my aversion to sappiness go. Just because it wasn't something I could have didn't mean I had to hold grudges or have an attitude towards those that did.

"You're going to look hot in that, Bella," Edward said as he propped his chin on Alice's head. "My Ali does exquisite work."

"You've definitely got the body to pull it off," Alice agreed. "It's another reason we decided in favor of that one."

"We?"

"Edward and I came up with it," she explained.

I gave him a questioning but amused look.

Edward shrugged. "I'm a guy. Ali wanted a guy's opinion, and I definitely wasn't thinking with my upstairs brain when I got a load of _that_!"

My amusement and surprise must have been clearly displayed on my face. _So pretty boy is a typical, horn dog guy after all_.

It wasn't that I thought he was a prude or anything. Despite the fact that I'd overheard him and Alice many, many times in the days since I'd moved in, and he was constantly making sweet little gestures towards her, he hadn't stricken me as overtly sexual.

He just smirked, and I couldn't help but grin and snort a little.

"He helped me make some modifications to it too," Alice said.

"I prefer to call them sluttifications, but that also works," Edward remarked, still smirking.

"Can I help you get ready?" Alice asked, sounding shy.

I almost grimaced at her tone but didn't. I could make myself look damn hot all by myself, but I didn't like seeing the normally exuberant girl looking so uncertain. I had promised Dr. Cullen I would be respectful of his family unless they gave me a reason not to be. Alice had been nothing but nice to me. I could do this for her.

"You can help," I said. "But we collaborate, and if I don't like something you suggest, I put the kibosh on it and that's the end of it."

Alice squealed and clapped excitedly. "Of course. Thank you, thank you, thank you! This will be so much fun!"

_Shit! What the hell did I just get myself into_?

"You get to play Bella Barbie just this once and that's it," I told her firmly. "And I reserve the right to bitch and moan, if I so choose."

"Deal!" she squealed again.

"She's really great at tuning people out when she gets into maniacal fashion mode," Edward warned.

Alice rushed to their bathroom and came back with an armload of beauty supplies, and unloading them onto her vanity.

_Oh God, kill me now! Why are you doing this again? _I groaned.

"That's my cue to make a quick getaway," Edward said, getting to his feet.

I gave him a pleading look.

He held his hands up. "Hey, you made your bed. Just because you pull out the puppy dog eyes doesn't change that. The only puppy dog eyes I am required to give in to are hers," he said, pointing to Alice. "But when the curling iron, mascara, and all the rest of that girly shit makes an appearance, I'm out."

Alice pulled out her own puppy dog face.

Edward scowled at her. "Don't you pull that face out, Alice Cullen! I have my dignity, and I do, on occasion, like to claim ownership of my balls."

_I thought her last name was McCarty, _I thought with a frown.

Alice pouted, prancing up to him and hopping up. He caught her, and she snaked her arms around his neck.

"Now if you need help putting your Cleopatra costume on," he said as his arms wrapped around her waist, "I'm your man."

Alice pressed her lips to his. When she pulled back she was smirking. "Oh, I'll let you know," she said. Then her face turned serious. "Now get out already so Bella and I can make some magic happen!"

I crossed my arms over my chest as Edward walked out. "I'm offended by that."

Alice shrugged. "It's not the hot part that will take the magic. We need to get you into the Mord-Sith mindset. You've got the attitude down, but we've got to work on the other stuff."

"Other stuff?"

"You're going to be Mistress Bella for the night," Alice elaborated. "Having an attitude and getting dominant are a bit different. We've got to get you in the proper frame of mind."

"And you know this how?" I asked, dreading what she would say. I wasn't sure why I'd bothered asking the question. I didn't want to know the answer.

Alice just gave me a mysterious smile.

_Thank God!_

"You know, Edward may have decided to stick around for this if he'd known," I pointed out. "I'm glad he didn't, but still."

"Why do you think he doesn't?" she replied. "I'm a confident and beautiful girl, but that doesn't mean I want my boyfriend drooling over another one. Now how do you feel about these?"

Alice reached beside her bed and came up holding a pair of blood red leather, knee high stiletto boots with a six inch heel that matched the color of the costume exactly.

"They're boots," I responded. "How _should _I feel about them?"

She rolled her eyes. "We're going to have to work on that," she sighed. "I suppose what I should have asked is can you walk in them?"

I smiled. "I've got that covered, Betty."

oOo

_One Hour Later ..._

JPOV

Edward and I were in my room getting ready for the evening's festivities. Everyone else had paired off: Alice with Bella, Charlotte with Rosalie, Emmett with Peter, and Carlisle with Esme.

Edward's Marc Antony costume truly showcased more of his mate's brilliance. I was going as a firefighter, a costume that was Alice-approved. I wouldn't have cared if it wasn't, but that made things easier.

Surprisingly enough, things between Edward and I were remarkably unchanged. I'd been anticipating feeling the urge to avoid him since my revelations about Savannah and Maria, but I didn't. He was distinctly lacking awkwardness or stilted mannerisms in my presence, and it was business as usual between us—giving each other shit and all that other brother stuff that came with the territory. It was a relief, and now that I saw how he'd reacted, I was starting to genuinely think it wouldn't be such a bad idea to come clean. It wasn't that I'd ever doubted my family's support, but the wariness was there. The intense need to protect them from whom I'd been hadn't lessened, or maybe it wasn't them I wanted to protect. Maybe it was me. Maybe I didn't want them to know who I'd been then because I hated the idea of feeling so fuckin' exposed. I didn't relish the idea of re-opening those wounds. In actuality, those wounds had never healed. Opening up about them would be more like rubbing salt in them.

I wasn't ashamed of who I was per se. I hadn't known any better until Peter and Charlotte came back for me. It didn't make the things I had done okay, but being born into this life the way I had been, in the environment I had lived and been taught, made the guilt less intense and easier to swallow. Was I sorry for all the lives I had taken and families I had broken apart? Absolutely, but it didn't eat at me the way Edward's transgressions sometimes ate at him. Even though my guilt wasn't as much of an issue as it probably should have been, it didn't negate the hundred years of bloody battles I had tucked away in my head. Maybe if I wasn't a fuckin' empath that shit wouldn't haunt me the way it did. Then again, maybe my gift had nothing to do with that. I would never know. What I did know was that the shit that haunted me the most were the things Maria and Savannah had done to me. The things I'd told Edward were only the tip of the fuckin' iceberg, and I couldn't fathom the prospect of having to rehash that shit with the rest of the family just so I could make them understand me a little better. Didn't they already know what really mattered?

But Edward's reaction did change things. No matter how much I fuckin' despised the idea, maybe it would lift this weight I couldn't seem to shake off my chest. Maybe I would actually feel better about it all when all was said and done and all my shit was out in the open. What was that old adage? "You never know until you try." At the very least, I owed Carlisle the respect of letting him in on what was really going on, especially now that a human was living with us. If I snapped, Bella would be in the line of fire. If precautionary measures could be taken, they needed to be. I supposed that was the clincher. My decision was made. I would start out with Carlisle and see how things went. Once that was done, we would proceed from there.

"Did you know Alice was making this for me?" Edward asked, frowning as he looked over his Marc Antony costume.

I didn't even bother to hide my smirk. "Something wrong, Ed?"

He scowled at me. "I didn't say that," he snapped. "But you didn't answer my question."

"I helped her with it actually," I said casually.

"_You _helped her?" he stammered, his incredulity obvious both in his expression and emotions.

I scowled and crossed my arms over my chest. "Why wouldn't I?" Edward raised his eyebrows at me. "What? Maybe I don't love her in the same way you do, but I do love her," I informed him. I would have reinforced the statement with a projection, but that was still a no-go. "So I griped about it a little, but then she pulled out the big guns."

"The puppy dog face?"

I nodded. "You know no one can resist that shit."

Edward groaned.

"You don't like it?" I asked.

"It's beautiful," he answered grudgingly, and I could feel his genuine admiration. "Everything she makes is. It's just a little … short."

I let out a sharp bark of laughter, and Edward scowled at me. I held my hands up in surrender. "Hey, I told her she should lengthen the hem. It's not my fault she didn't listen."

Edward winced, and I knew he was getting "what for" from Alice through his gift. She must have had a vision of our little conversation.

"Did you just get a slap on the wrist from the wifey?" I teased. Edward picked up the button-down shirt I'd been wearing earlier but had taken off and left on my bed. He wadded it up into a tight ball and threw it at my head.

I caught it effortlessly and tossed it in the laundry hamper. "Honestly, what the hell is it with people throwin' shit at my head?" I huffed, nearly growling in my annoyance. "You, Peter, Bella, the list goes on and on. Would you care to enlighten me, Professor X?"

"I can't speak for the others but, for me, it's just fun," he responded with a shrug and some amusement. Then his emotions turned sly. "Speaking of Bella …"

I immediately went on my guard but managed not to let my spine stiffen and jaw clench. I knew without a doubt that I would not like where this conversation was going to go but in the spirit of opening up and all that shit …

"What about her?" I asked innocently.

He didn't answer right away, first stepping into his tunic and arranging it properly. I took the opportunity to shimmy out of my jeans, dress in a pair of cargo pants that always made Alice squirm when I wore them, replace my short-sleeved T-shirt with a long-sleeved, white thermal one and lastly pull on the pull-over bunker pants of a fireman's fire response gear. Then I attached the suspenders and tugged on the steel-toed bunker boots that went with the uniform. I left the turn-out coat on the bed to don later.

Edward was making Alice help him with the rest of his costume. He didn't need it, but it was a mate's prerogative apparently. My personal opinion was that he wanted an excuse to get her hands on him.

"I think you'll like her costume," he told me, smirking.

"Oh?" I responded. My ears had perked up at the mention of it, but I didn't want to let on just how interested I was. I wasn't sure if I was successful. The echoes of Alice telling me that Halloween was the perfect excuse for women to dress up as shameless sluts was on a loop in my head, and I was having trouble focusing.

"She's going to look hot," he carried on, bending over to lace up his Roman-style sandals. I cringed.

"Dude!" I exclaimed. "Bend at the knees, and put on some fuckin' boxer briefs. I do not need to see that shit!"

He glanced over his shoulder and rolled his eyes. "First of all, I'm wearing boxers because that is my underwear of choice, which is none of your concern, by the way. Second, it's not like I did it on purpose, and third, it's not like you haven't seen 'that shit,' as you call it, before." He smirked again. "Don't be a prude."

I glared at him. "First of all, the last thing I am is a prude. Just ask your wife."

"Bastard," he growled, but he wasn't that irritated by my comment. It was nice that we could joke about that now. Even so, I ignored it and continued on.

"Second, you just stuck your ass, which is currently clad in a short as shit tunic, up in the air like a bitch in heat," I pointed out. His eyes narrowed. "And third, I could not give a shit what kind of underwear you sport under whatever Alice stuffs you into, but boxers provide absolutely no twig and berry coverage or support while in that get-up! You might as well just go commando, which is totally your choice, but may I just remind you that there is now one person residin' in this house who has not been scarred by the sight of your junk?" I finished, going to my dresser, pulling out a pair of my boxer briefs and tossing them at him.

He caught them, his expression and emotions on the cusp of amused but only for a moment. Then they shifted into bewilderment as he tucked the boxer briefs under his arm, slipped off his underwear and replaced them with mine, but I didn't quite buy it. There was a slightly false quality to them that tainted it all. I was suddenly suspicious.

"Burn those when you're through with them," I said distractedly. Then I decided to get things back to where they'd been. "You were talkin' about Bella's costume ..." I trailed off impatiently, still glaring. I needed to change the subject and get the visual of Edward's cock out of my head.

_I just threw up in my mouth a little, _the Major gagged.

_Join the fuckin' club, asshole._

"Why do you even care what she's going to be dressed as?" he questioned. "You hate her, don't you? You 'just don't mesh,' right?"

The fucker sounded a tinge smug. My glare darkened. "Right."

He studied me for a few moments, and I ground my teeth.

"Do you want to know what I think?"

_No._

_Yes, _the Major interjected like a total bastard.

"It wouldn't matter if I said no, would it?" I asked.

"Nope," he answered.

"You have been married to Alice for way too damn long," I remarked irritably.

"I will never have been married to Alice for way too damn long. I will never be married to her for long _enough_," Edward returned. "What I think is that you don't hate Bella nearly as much as you say you do."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really," he said. "In fact, I don't think you hate her at all."

"We have a little heart to heart in the woods and suddenly you think you're an expert on the inner workings of my mind?" I snapped, getting angry.

Edward was not intimidated by my anger. I couldn't figure out if that made me more angry or if I felt relieved by it.

"Not in the least," he responded easily. "But you don't generally buy birthday presents for people you hate."

_Damn it! _I'd really been hoping no one would find out about that.

"Ali saw that, did she?"

Edward gave me a disbelieving look. "Did you honestly think she wouldn't?"

I shrugged and sat down on the edge of my mattress. "A guy can dream."

"Why didn't you say anything about Bella's birthday, Jazz? How do you even know about it?"

"She mentioned it in passing. I don't even think she meant to tell me," I answered, and that was absolutely not a lie. Bella had gone on the defensive in Louisville when I'd mentioned her age, and she'd revealed her birthday without stopping to truly consider if she actually wanted me to know. "And I didn't say anything because I can't picture her bein' thrilled with Alice's idea of a party. Really, Ed. Your woman would probably string up every inch of the damn property with some sort of pink and get a cake big enough to feed fifty."

Edward chuckled affectionately. "That's my Ali."

"You're the reason that party hasn't been green-lit, aren't you?"

The look on his face said it all. "And it really took some doing."

"I swear you are walkin', talkin' Xanax for that girl," I whistled lowly. "And you love it, don't you?"

"Yep," he said.

I shook my head at him, smiling at his happiness as well as Alice's. I thought it was great that they were happy and so sickeningly in love. Sometimes I wished I could find the idea appealing for myself, but I just couldn't.

"Hey," Edward poked my shoulder playfully, "maybe my girl gets crazy enough to need Xanax sometimes, but she's _my _crazy, and I'm _her _neurotic, and that's how it's supposed to be."

"Good for you," I said, half-sincere and half-sarcastic.

Edward tossed a bookend at my head this time. I caught that easily as well. "Ass."

"And that's how _I'm _supposed to be."

"You don't see yourself very clearly, Jasper," he replied with a frown. I opened my mouth to respond, but he continued without giving me the chance. "I don't think Bella hates you as much as she lets on either."

"You're fuckin' kidding, right? We are talkin' about the same girl, aren't we? Brown hair, brown eyes, yay high?" I sputtered incredulously, holding my hand at shoulder level.

"That would be the one," he said patiently, channeling Carlisle.

"Have you gone blind or deaf?" I demanded quizzically.

Edward rolled his eyes. "No, I have not gone blind or deaf and, no, I am not the world's first senile vampire. _You _might be though."

"Your balls must have grown three whole sizes since yesterday, Ed," I joked. I was genuinely curious about what he might say though. Just because _I _couldn't read Bella well didn't mean she was a mystery to everyone else, did it? "You must be _so _proud."

"You were the one who just got an eyeful, so you would know," he joked back. "But seriously, Jazz. I truly don't believe she hates you the way she makes it seem like she does."

"Alright, I'll bite," I said. "What is this great evidence of yours? And I still have _not _said that I like her, just that I don't hate her."

Edward snickered. I growled. He lost the smirk and smugness, and the growing red tint around my vision faded.

"When she thinks you're not looking, when she thinks _no _one is looking," he said, "she watches you. Sometimes it really does seem like she wants to gut you with a knitting needle or something, but there are other times ... Well, she just looks like she's trying to figure out what planet you're from."

I knew Bella watched me on occasion. My skin felt electrified when her eyes were on me. It wasn't nearly as intense as when we touched, but it was there. Did that mean I knew it every single time she looked my way? I had no fuckin' clue, but Edward had no reason to yank my chain. That still didn't mean shit; it didn't make anything any fuckin' clearer.

"Yeah, well, when I figure out what planet _she's _from," I snarked, getting to my feet and finally shrugging on the matching fire response gear turn-out coat of my costume. "I'll let you know. Until then, you're full of shit."

oOo

It was seven, and all of us were pretty much ready to go trick-or-treating. Alice and Edward looked amazing as Cleopatra and Marc Antony. Edward still wasn't thrilled with how short his tunic was, but how beautiful Alice looked in her costume was distracting him from it. Rosalie was gorgeous, but unoriginal, as a blonde Jessica Rabbit (the girl would not, under any circumstances, dye her hair). Carlisle and Esme were perfect as Bonnie and Clyde. I had no idea what Charlotte was dressing up as until she came sauntering down the stairs with a predatory gait that would have intimidated anyone—even a fellow vampire.

I laughed out loud. "Have I told you lately that I love you and the way you think?"

"No, but you don't have to," she said with a grin.

She was dressed as Selene from the _Underworld _movies as a tongue-in-cheek taunt to the Quileutes. Since her character killed Lycans, it would do exactly that if we ran into any of them, and that made me a little giddy. Carlisle's emotions demonstrated that he clearly didn't approve, but he kept his mouth shut because he understood our frustration. He had promised Billy and Talise Black that they could keep an extra close eye on us when Bella moved in to reassure themselves that she was safe and we didn't hurt her, but that didn't mean it didn't piss me, or the rest of us, the fuck off. In part, their wariness had to do with the mere fact that she was living with a family of vampires, but the majority of it had to do with her living in a house with two vampires who'd only recently converted from a human blood diet to an animal one. It was true that Peter and Charlotte occasionally struggled with their bloodlust, any vampire who gave up our natural food source would, but they had those urges much more under control than I had at this stage. What they struggled with most was the desire to tear out the throats of the teenagers at Forks High that annoyed the shit out of them, and that had less to do with bloodlust and more to do with wanting to end that annoyance. Of any human, Bella was the last one they would drain, no matter how delectable she smelled. The revelation that Carlisle, Esme, Edward, Emmett and Rosalie had killed vampires to protect their tribe hadn't much changed their opinion of us or affected their belief that we wouldn't hurt her. Killing other vampires in a war was one thing, but killing others of our kind in any other situation was a big deal, and they had to have realized that on some level. That still didn't appear to matter to most of them. Planting Leah Clearwater as a waitress at Bella's place of work was a fuckin' insult, not just to Pete and Char, but to all of us, and I wanted to kill them all for it. Carlisle had no problem with it because he was Carlisle, and that made it even more irritating.

The only ones that knew what Bella's costume was were Alice, Edward and now Bella. After Edward's comments, I was now curious as hell what it was. As for Peter and Emmett's costumes, only they, their mates and Alice knew what they were. Those two were dead-set on it being as much of a surprise as possible, so they'd done their best to block Edward. Well, Emmett did. Peter didn't have a problem with that, but Em, who was notoriously awful at it, had done surprisingly well as had Alice, who hardly ever tried, even though she _was_good at it. We were all curious to say the least. They came downstairs a moment later, but those of us that hadn't been in the know still could not figure out what the hell they were.

The two of them were wearing full-length, black trench coats, what looked to be combat boots and rubber old man masks. They were both radiating mischief.

"What are the two of you supposed to be, exactly?" Edward asked, frowning, still obviously not able to read their minds.

Emmett and Peter simultaneously whipped open their coats, twirling around in a quick but still human-paced circle so all of us could get an eyeful of what was underneath them … and man did we ever get a fuckin' eyeful! What the trench coats were concealing were bodysuits that perfectly matched the color of their pale skin, boxers and what looked to be paper mached, super-sized dicks and balls which were made of what, I could not for the life of me figure out, hanging out of said boxers.

The incredulity of everyone who had not known what their costumes were going to be was fully apparent.

"We're flashers!" they cried simultaneously.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?" I exclaimed, still too shocked to laugh.

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "This actually surprises you?"

"Well, no," I admitted now that I'd had a chance to digest what I'd seen—Em and Pete had closed their coats, thank God! They also pulled off their masks, complaining about the overwhelming smell of the rubber and not wanting to wear them until it was absolutely necessary.

"Then what are you bitching for, Jazz?" Emmett asked, bewildered.

"Maybe he's bitching because, despite how well we know you, you're both still absolutely ridiculous!" Edward barked, but his amusement was still plain.

"How much time did the two of you spend paper macheing your own dicks?" I asked.

"Perfection takes time, Major," Peter said. "And I am _absolute _perfection. I had to do myself justice, and this equipment needs delicate handling, if you know what I mean," he finished, waggling his eyebrows.

I snorted. "Delicate handling, my ass," I mumbled. I was still thoroughly entertained, a bit disturbed, but I'd known that whatever they had in store for Halloween would be full of jackassery.

"What did you even make those out of?" Esme asked in morbid curiosity. If she hadn't asked, another one of us would have.

Peter grinned. "Newspaper, Oz tubes, oversized syringes, tube socks, string and balloons, plus paint, glue and all the other accoutrements."

Emmett horned in on Peter's list and launched into how they went about making them. "See, we started by rolling a section of newspaper around the Oz tubing, then we paper mached around that until we got the right shape and finished up with the paint job. After that we took the tube socks and—"

"I do _not _want to know all the technical details of what went in the construction of … _those_," Edward interrupted, gesturing toward their costume "parts."

"Who's the prude now?" I snickered.

Edward glowered at me. "Just because I don't want to know about it doesn't mean I'm a prude, Assper!"

"Wow! That's original," I mocked.

"And look!" Emmett yelled gleefully, he and Peter again throwing open their coats. "They're fully functional!"

With that, both of their fake dicks went erect, we all heard the rasp of what I assumed was the plunger of the syringes, and a white liquid came shooting out of the tips, hitting the wall with a splat.

Esme and Carlisle choked. Alice's trilling laugh echoed through the living room along with Edward's, Charlotte's, Rose's and mine, but then I scowled as a thought occurred to me.

"You try to shoot that shit at me, and I will rip your real dicks off and hide them where you will never find them again," I threatened menacingly. I had a decent sense of humor, but getting faux-jizzed on was not my idea of fun, and I was not kidding. I would gladly rip their actual junk off and hide it if they even _looked _like they might attempt it.

"You're no fun," Em pouted.

"That's a great threat, Whitlock," Bella's voice sounded from the stairs as she descended them. "I think I'll store it away for later use, though I promise I won't use it on you. Using a person's own threat against them is just in bad taste, unless it's a revenge thing, and that threat would most definitely _not _apply in a vengeance scenario between us since I lack that particular body part."

My eyes snapped to her as she reached the bottom step and, _Holy fuckin' hell!_

There she stood, hair pulled back in a loose braid, and dressed in a skintight blood-red leather catsuit with a yellow crescent and star across the stomach that laced up the outside of her thighs, sides, back and the under sides of her arms but somehow still allowed for movement. The collar of it went halfway up her neck but wasn't molded to her skin like the rest of it was for one simple reason—Bella had the nearly invisible zipper holding the outfit together from the front zipped so that it pulled her neckline into a deep V, revealing a healthy amount of cleavage, but not so much that she was on the verge of falling out of the damn thing. It had a belt with buckles and some other shit that I didn't really register because my brain was short-circuiting, and all my venom was pooling south. When she walked forward and I heard the sharp clack of her shoes against the wood floor again, my eyes travelled downward, lingering on her still delectable ass for a little too long before I finally made it to the tops of her matching boots, which started at her knees and ended with deadly-looking, six-inch black stiletto heels. Her legs were miles long and still nothing but lean muscle. I wanted to lick them or hook my hands behind her knees and wrap them around my waist.

_Fuck me! _The Major and I hissed in unison. It was a good thing these bunker pants were so loose because I was so hard, it was ridiculous. I was considering going to search the garage for duct tape to strap that shit down, knowing Alice wouldn't see since the Major was half in control of me almost all the time these days, thus blocking her visions, when Bella's mouth dropped open in shock. Emmett, who had been just as distracted by Bella's costume as I was but for entirely different reasons, had forgotten to close his trench coat when she'd entered the room. His emotions were disgruntled, and he was too busy scowling at how little her costume left to the imagination—the way a real big brother would if his little sister came downstairs dressed like that to have the presence of mind to cover that shit up. His monster paper mached cock was still standing at attention, much like my real one was, from his and Peter's little demonstration, and her eyes were glued to it with appalled fascination. The sound of her blood speeding up as it rushed through her veins and how it would inevitably spread over her skin in what I envisioned would be a beautiful blush flooded my ears, its heady scent assaulting my nose. I fixed my eyes on her face to watch as it bloomed. It was just as gorgeous as I thought it would be, that lovely pink cascading across her skin from her hairline and disappearing down beyond the leather of her costume. My dick twitched in my pants.

_You're gettin' a free pass for usin' the words 'bloomed,' 'lovely' and 'cascading' strictly because that blush is so fuckin' hot and worth starin' at like a stalker freak, you jackass! _ The Major sniped. _But you keep that shit up, and I _will _tear you a new asshole! How about you grow a pair and pin her to the wall again? You know you want to. _I_certainly want you to._

_No! _I growled furiously. _I am not pinning her to the fuckin' wall! _But the Major was right. I wanted to ... badly.

_Why the hell not?_

_Because I don't want to have to explain myself or make her hate me any more than she already does, _I snapped.

_She liked it the last time. She'll get over it._

_That could be the reason she hates me, dumbass! _I pointed out irritably.

_Why do you give a fuck? She doesn't matter to you, right? _He smirked.

_No! But if I pin her to the wall, I'll get ripped apart. How do you propose we'll pass _that _off?_

_Pfft! _The Major scoffed. _You can rip every single vampire in this house apart even without your gift, and you would do it if it meant you could have her._

_You certainly have delusions of grandeur, don't you? _I remarked, annoyed. I wasn't fuckin' invincible.

_And you seem to have developed an inferiority complex! _He was right to a degree though—I could take on many vampires at once and take them apart without getting a scratch on me. Still, I wasn't fuckin' invincible.

I rolled my eyes, but ignored that comment. _No, I would not rip every vampire in this house apart, especially not for her!_

_Fine! _The Major snapped. _But do not come bitchin' to me about the epic case of blue balls you'll have later, fucker! I have absolutely _no _problem with you suffering the consequences of bein' a pussy for not _gettin' _some pussy!_

_Asshole!_

You're _the asshole! I'm you, remember?_

The sound of Bella's laughter brought me back from my ridiculous but heated argument with my alter ego. She was bent over, her right hand propped on her knee and her left forearm braced across her stomach as her sexy, throaty giggles filled the room. If my dick was hard before ...

Emmett and Peter were grinning. Emmett hadn't necessarily wanted to show off his paper mached "assets" to Bella because of how he viewed her, but the whole point of this was to get her to have fun and to make her laugh. So far, they were succeeding.

Alice decided that now was a good time to head upstairs, her emotions patient, knowing and oddly amused. She'd had a vision about something, that much was for sure, but I shifted my focus back to our leather-clad human. It was impossible to ignore her just as it was impossible to ignore the throbbing in my groin.

Bella's amusement helped Em to overcome his aversion to soiling her innocence, and he decided, instead, to continue to amplify it. He cast a sideways glance at Peter, and they came to an impish decision. Their gazes zeroed in on Edward, but Edward had either been tipped off by one of Alice's visions, Emmett's thoughts or both because he darted forward at a quick but still human pace, shoving Em in the shoulder. He knocked into Pete, and they stumbled awkwardly, Em spinning one way and Peter jerking in the other. The not-so-secret spooge ambush they'd planned went horribly awry—Emmett's shot hit Rose in the cleavage and Peter's struck Carlisle square in the crotch. Both of them gaped, dumbfounded.

Rosalie's face contorted in disbelieving rage, and she smacked Emmett upside the head. "Really, babe? I knew asking you to keep it in your pants was out since _that,_**" **she gestured to his fabricated junk, "is your costume, but you couldn't just wait to pull your pranks until we were outside?"

"Babe," Emmett pleaded desperately. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"You ruined my costume!" she fumed, stamping her foot and clenching her fists at her sides as she glared murderously at her mate, the white substance dripping down the front of her dress.

Carlisle was quiet, his emotions bearing a taste of many things. He was stunned, long suffering, with just a trace of mirth, one corner of his mouth quirked up as he looked at Peter—Peter, who stood frozen, with a horrified expression on his face.

Edward, Charlotte, Bella and I were all fuckin' dying at this point, gasping from laughing so hard. Alice could be heard laughing as well from upstairs. Since Carlisle was one of the victims, we shouldn't have been, but we were physically incapable of not, and once we'd gotten started, we couldn't stop. Even Esme was laughing, though she was patting her mate on the back in sympathy.

Alice came trotting down the stairs then, two garment bags slung over her petite shoulder. She handed one to Rose and the other to Carlisle. Inside were pristine replicas of their original costumes. Alice had seen this and had been prepared for it. She'd also kept it from Edward, probably so things could play out exactly as they had. Charlotte, Edward and I laughed harder.

Once the house quit echoing with our laughter, Carlisle sighed. He'd been engaging in a staring contest with Pete, who still hadn't moved, the whole time. Emmett was still getting hell from Rosalie, though having a new costume to change in to had calmed her considerably.

"Boys," Carlisle begged. "Please tell me you don't plan to go around flashing people while you're trick-or-treating?"

Peter finally broke out of his frozen state and grinned. "Oh no, Doc. The only people we intend to flash are right here in this room," he assured him. "Gettin' arrested is not our idea of fun, and that's what this night is all about." He and Emmett shared a conspiratorial look. "We have something else planned for the good people of Forks."

Carlisle let out another sigh. "Are these plans of yours similar to your failed sneak attack?"

The two of them levelled Carlisle and Esme with angelic smiles, but their fingers were crossed behind their backs.

"Of course not," they chorused.

Carlisle and Esme didn't buy it for a second.

Bella's eyes flitted to the wet stains on Carlisle's and Rosalie's costumes. "What did you make that out of?"

"Water, milk, a little flour for texture, a bit of sugar to make it kind of sticky and apple juice for flavor," Peter informed her with a wink.

"Ewww." Bella shuddered, a much more subdued blush coloring her cheeks.

_Son of a bitch!_

Emmett's attention was brought back to her and his emotions went from mischievous to sour and irritable as he rounded on her. "And what are _you _supposed to be, Bella?"

All trace of the blush and humor melted from Bella's body, her spine straightened and she rose to her full height, which, in those heels, was just two inches shorter than I was. She stood there, straight and proud, looking regal, confident and really fuckin' hot without making any effort. I wanted to groan, but somehow, miraculously, held it back. Her face emptied of all emotion save for a wisp of a smile, and she flipped the thin, leather rod hanging from her wrist by a delicate, gold chain that I was just now noticing up into her hand and twirled it expertly. "I am a Mord-Sith," she answered. "And it's Mistress Bella to you, my pet."

_Holy fuckin' hell! _I repeated. I really needed to find that duct tape.

oOo

EmPOV

Halloween was going to be perfect. Peter and I had it all planned out and some hijinks were sorely overdue. We hadn't engaged in any real pranks since our hot dog eating contest. Bella moving in had thrown a wrench in our usual antics, which were always rooted in our vampiric abilities, and we'd needed to do some strategizing about how to have our cake and eat it too. We'd come up with a solution and were using our mad practical joke skills and evil genius against the general populous instead of against each other this time. We did plot against the family on occasion, but this was the first time we'd ever come up with a scheme to prank humans. We were doing it to make Bella laugh, but, damn, I wished we would have had an excuse to do it sooner because this shit was going to be awesome! There was a chance she wouldn't find any of this funny, but from what Peter and I had observed so far, we didn't think that would be an issue. Besides, she was a Cullen now. It was a requisite. Even Carlisle and Esme found humor in risque things, though they would never admit quite how much.

Of course when Bella came downstairs, I completely forgot about all of that. The costume she was wearing was un-fucking-acceptable!

_Oh, hell no!_

I was going to kill Alice for that shit. It wasn't that Bella couldn't pull it off. If I wasn't mated to Rosalie and didn't view her as a little sister, I would probably have been so hard it hurt, but she _was_my little sister. I didn't just think it, and I wasn't just playing make-believe. I was serious about that shit. She even reminded me of my human sister, Sadie. She was fifteen when I died, and I had lived for that girl ... literally. I adored her, spoiled her, practically raised her. The hardest thing about becoming a vampire was leaving her behind, but as difficult as that had been, as much as I'd longed to change her and keep her forever, I knew I couldn't be so selfish. I knew, even as a newborn, that vampires were an unnatural thing. I didn't mind being one, was actually happy about it, especially when I woke up to my Rosie, but I knew Sadie better than anyone. She wouldn't have handled it well, wouldn't have wanted it, and I couldn't do it to her. I still loved her, still missed her, but it was bearable now. That was the luxury of time.

Bella reminded me of Sadie. Their hair was the same shade of brown, they were the same height and build, and they had a spirit that was never-ending, but that was where the similarities ended. Still, they were enough to make me ache. I had never confused the two of them. I didn't love Bella because she reminded me of Sadie. I loved her because she was funny and honest, she wasn't afraid to give as good as she got, she'd defended us when she barely knew us—when she didn't _have_to defend us—and because she didn't seem to be holding Rose's bitch fit against her when, by all rights, she should have. She was still holding us all at arms length, but she was trying, and I loved her for it. There was a sadness in her eyes that tore at me, that made me crazy, that I could hardly stand and really wanted to fix. It was why I was always trying my best to make her laugh and feel welcome. It was why the feud between her and Jasper bothered me so much but not just because of her. I hated it for his sake too. He didn't deserve the way she was treating him when she wasn't pretending he didn't exist, and I didn't understand it. That was something else I wanted to fix. I just didn't know how. Jasper was a difficult fucker to read, and so was Bella. When you couldn't read people, it made it really fucking hard to figure out how to do that.

Seeing Bella in that get-up brought out my big brother instincts big time. I nearly growled in rage, so distracted by it I forgot to close my trench coat, which gave Bella a full view of my masterpiece of a paper mached cock. I'd planned for her to know what Pete and I were going to do on our trick-or-treating expedition—that was part of the point, and she had to know if it was going to make her laugh—and there was no way she wouldn't, but I'd never intended her to actually see the goods. The thing was an actual replica of my junk, though exaggerated, but not by much. What brother wants his sister to see that shit? And really, whether she'd had sex or not, I still wanted to pretend she hadn't and also that she'd never seen a penis before. That was shot to hell now, and it was _my _penis she had seen! Talk about awkward!

_Shit!_

Then Bella laughed, and as furious and uncomfortable as her costume and my idiocy made me, seeing that look on her face and hearing that sound come from her warmed me, and that shit was worth it. It was still disturbing as fuck but worth it.

oOo

"These are the rules," Peter said as we stood outside the house, all the kids gathered around, but his words were meant for me. Our prank was on humans, but we were still playing a little game against each other.

Carlisle and Esme had already left, our intention to meet them in town, and were far enough away that they wouldn't hear us. We probably shouldn't have bothered. They would know soon enough, but Pete and I didn't want to deal with the disapproving looks. They would be amused to a degree, but, as our parental figures, they were obligated to throw a few of them our way.

"No kids or adults, but Forks High students are fair game. Stealth is of the utmost importance. Like I said before, we don't want to get arrested and officially branded perverts by society." It was also because we needed to keep our low profile intact at all costs. We were totally gonna Mission Impossible this shit.

"But you _are _perverts," Alice said.

Peter smirked. "I never said we weren't, but society doesn't need to recognize that. Besides, we're really only perverts with our women and when we joke around with the family. These," he gestured toward his crotch and then to mine, "are meant to be an inside joke between all of us. Since we have no intention of anyone else seein' our delivery system, squirtin' people is really the equivalent of hittin' our unsuspecting victims with sticky water balloons, only without the balloon barrier," he concluded, moving on. "Whoever hits the most targets wins, and extra points are awarded depending on who your target is and _where _you hit them," he informed me with a gleeful grin but still including the others.

"And this is what people normally do when they go trick-or-treating," Bella spoke slowly, incredulously, but amused. It wasn't exactly a question.

"Nope. This is something Pete and I cooked up special just for you," I boasted proudly, grinning. Rosalie slipped her hand into mine and smiled indulgently. I was glad she wasn't pissed at me anymore for ruining her initial costume. She was always surprising me with how much of my shit she put up with, and I loved her so damn much for it. She loved me no matter how crazy I got.

"I don't know whether to feel honored or creeped out, Emmett," Bella admitted, shaking her head as she looked between Pete and me. "It would totally be the latter if I didn't understand that you two are harmless."

We split up into cars—Alice, Edward and Bella in Alice's Porsche and Pete, Char, Rose, Jasper and me in Pete's Suburban. We did change things up every now and again. We had so many fucking cars, we couldn't not. After that, we headed into town to start our quest for human candy on a route that didn't start way the hell out at our property.

Peter and I pulled on our masks, which smelled like ass, and we started moseying ... until Jasper grabbed me by the arm and pulled, slowing us down until we were lagging way the hell behind everyone else.

When he spoke, it was at vampire speed—something none of us had done since before Bella had agreed to move in just to get us into the practice of acting human—and so quiet I didn't think anyone else heard. "If we see him, nail Riley Dwyer between the eyes."

My brow furrowed, and my voice was curious when I asked, "Why?"

Jasper rolled his eyes. "He's the fuckin' quarterback and captain of the football team. He's also the captain of the baseball team. Don't you think you'll get extra points for that? It's strategy, Em. Besides, you gave me hell for the idea that I might want to fuck Bella yesterday, which I unequivocally _don't_, but he _does_, so do what big brothers do and nail his ass."

I was already pissed enough over Bella's costume, and I _had _noticed the way Riley looked at her. Jasper was an empath. If the kid lusted after her, he could feel it. The thought made me go a little apeshit.

"Sure thing, dude," I promised with a menacing twist of my lips. "Wait. Why do you care?"

He shrugged. "I don't, but you do, and you also want to win. Like I said, Em. It's strategy, and, of the two of us, I have the better head for it. So, if you want to beat Pete ..."

"But you and Pete ..."

"You're my brother too, Emmett," Jasper stated fiercely, his eyes flashing in the descending darkness.

I just nodded.

Esme and Carlisle went to the first six houses with us "kids" before bailing. It was a little odd that the 'rents would stick around to escort their teenagers for so long while trick-or-treating. Bella got that it was because she'd never gone before, but if they stuck around for any longer, it would be plain weird. They bowed out gracefully to go home and do "parent stuff."

_Ick! _I shuddered, gagging. "Parent stuff" was code for getting down and dirty since they had the house to themselves, and I didn't want to think about that. If I did, even pulling my string wouldn't get my fake cock up to engage in our Spunk War.

The first acceptable targets we came across were Mike Newton and Tyler Crowley. Before we got in to position, the others fell back, but not so far that they couldn't see the show, half-hiding so it wouldn't be obvious that Peter and I were the culprits—even though we were wearing old man masks, if the family was visible and we weren't among them, it wouldn't take a genius to figure things out.

I would have preferred Mike, but Peter targeted him first, darting behind a bush with awesome cover closest to him, so I was stuck with Crowley. I hid behind a tree. It was pretty dark, so I wasn't worried about being seen. Peter and I had been practicing squirting and bailing fast enough not to be but still slow enough for it to be considered human.

When they got close enough, I stepped just far enough out from behind my tree to hit where I was aiming for. Then I opened my coat, pulled the string that brought my fake dick up, pushed the plunger of the syringe and let my "jizz" fly. It hit Tyler just beneath his nose, and he ended up inhaling it. After that, I scaled the tree until I was high enough for human eyes not to be able to see me. That was part of the reason Pete and I had chosen black trench coats.

Peter hit Mike in his right eye. Mike let out a string of obscenities as Tyler coughed and snorted, trying to clear his nasal passages.

When Mike could see and Tyler could breathe, they let out variations of "What the fuck?" and it took everything I had not to lose it. They split up and came looking for the people responsible for whatever the hell had happened, which they still hadn't figured out. It was several minutes before they gave up and moved on, and it was safe for all of us to come out. It took _us _several minutes to stop laughing our asses off.

We spent the next few minutes hitting up several houses for candy before our next targets made an appearance—Lauren Mallory and Jessica Stanley. I rushed to claim Lauren. There was no way in hell Pete was taking that bitch from me, not after the way she'd gone after Bella.

The others followed the same pattern as before, drifting back and taking cover. I hid behind the side of a house this time while Pete ducked behind a tree. I timed it so that when I attacked, my "jizz" shot into Lauren's mouth and straight to the back of her throat with perfect aim. She went into a coughing fit, gagging and eventually throwing it back up. I smirked. It was beautiful and fucking poetic.

Pete hit Jessica just to the side of her mouth, only some of it making it in, and he didn't make her cough, gag _or_throw up.

_"Beat that, fucker!" _I taunted him through Edward's gift.

_"I admit you win that round, but the game is not over, Em," _he said.

Jessica wiped her mouth, frowning, and started patting Lauren on the back.

Once Lauren was over it, Jessica asked, "Are you okay?"

"What the hell do you think?" Lauren sneered, and I wanted to bitch slap her. I didn't like Jessica exactly, but there were worse people, and she was trying to be a good friend.

"Whatever," Jessica responded defensively. "I was just making sure you weren't going to choke to death, which at this point, I wouldn't mind!"

_Nice! Go, Jessica!_

They too searched for what or who was responsible for their sticky mess, but Peter and I were long gone.

When the others caught up, they were laughing, just like last time. Edward looked amused but something else too—not disapproving exactly but constipated again. It was his "I'm-trying-to-figure-something-out" face.

"Was that really necessary, Emmett?" he queried, eyes narrowing at my inner constipation comment.

"After the way she went after Bella? Hell yes!" I answered without hesitation as we started to walk to the next house. "Just call me the Angel of Karma."

The constipation face disappeared, and he smiled, obviously agreeing with my logic. I noticed with my peripheral vision that the others agreed. Bella's brows were furrowed, her expression similar to Edward's "I'm-trying-to-figure-something-out-face," only without the "I'm-trying-to-take-a-shit-and-failing-miserably" vibe. I wondered what that was about.

The same pattern repeated. It was a few more houses of candy robbery enabled by our off-the-charts beauty before our next targets—Angela Weber, Ben Cheney and Eric Yorkie—appeared. Angela and Ben were actually decent human beings; I'd feel bad about spooging them, but I had a game to win.

Bella intercepted us before Peter and I could divvy up who was going to ambush whom.

She stepped in front of us, moved her feet shoulder width apart and flipped her leather rod up into her hand, brandishing it with a menace that shouldn't have been possible for something that wasn't even a weapon. Bella sure as hell made it seem like one though. She was standing straight and regal, carrying herself with poise and confidence, her face empty of emotion but for that wisp of a smile. The only time she'd gone out of character was when she was laughing at Peter's and my antics. She was the perfect Mord-Sith. That's right. I've read that shit and watched the TV show, and they're awesome, so I was very familiar with Mord-Sith. Those chicks were warriors, but they were also dominatrixes, and it was fucking creepy how good she was.

"If you dare to even _consider _targeting Angela Weber and Ben Cheney, *I will teach you the meaning of pain.* You will know it like you've never known it before," Bella threatened. "And _you_ won't like it, but _I _will," she said, finishing off her threat, that wisp of a smile widening in a way that disturbed me. She truly made me believe she meant it. She even looked like she knew _how _to make us know pain like we never had before. I actually gulped. A fucking human made me gulp. I don't even know how many man points I lost for that shit or exactly how much testosterone leaked out of my balls ... the real ones. I repeat, it was fucking creepy how good a Mord-Sith she was.

The fact that Peter also seemed a bit intimidated by her made me feel better. Granted, neither one of us was _actually _intimidated by Bella. We were fucking vampires, and she was human. No matter how badass she was, vampire _always _trumped human.

It was a battle over who got to nail Eric Yorkie. Peter won. He got him in the ear like the entrance to the canal was a damn bullseye. He smirked at me all cocky-like.

_Bastard! _

_"Still doesn't beat my throat shot, asshole!" _I argued through Edward's gift before he could say something to the contrary.

_"It so does, Neanderthal! That was a way smaller target!" _He countered.

_Damn it! _Peter was right about that, but my shot totally still eclipsed it. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

Angela and Ben stood there, wide-eyed for a moment, as Eric shook his head like a dog, doing his damndest to get Pete's handcrafted spunk out of his ear. Angela stayed with Eric, asking him if he was okay in a bewildered tone of voice and rubbing little circles on his back, while Ben went to investigate. He didn't find anything, of course, and they moved on quicker than the others.

Peter and I were both getting low on ammunition, so we took the time to switch out syringes before continuing on our trick-or-treating expedition and what I was now calling "Pin the Spooge on the Unsuspecting Dumbass Humans."

Just two houses later, as luck would have it, we happened upon Forks High's beloved quarterback, Riley Dwyer, and Gavin Nichols. Gavin was on the football team with Riley. I didn't think they were friends, but I rarely paid attention to the teenagers at school—I found humans fascinating but only if they were interesting, and the only human even remotely interesting at that place was Bella—so I wasn't sure. From the absolute silence between them, I guessed I was right, but that wasn't relevant to our game, and I didn't particularly give a fuck. I turned briefly, made eye contact with Jasper, and we did that little upward nod thing that we guys do before I launched into action.

It was another house I took cover behind that time, and it was to Riley's left. Just like I'd promised Jazz, I nailed the fucker right between the eyes, making sure to swivel my hips so that it got in them too and then threw my arm up in an exuberant fist pump.

_He shoots! He scores! And the crowd goes wild!_

Pete sprayed his shit all over Gavin's ass. It made him look like he'd been freshly bent over a couch arm and made someone's bitch.

Riley swiped the back of his hand across his eyes, cursing as they watered and stung, but he and Gavin did not react passively the way all our other victims had. They didn't wait around wondering what the hell happened; they immediately went tearing off in the directions of where their liquid torment had come from. I raced around the back corner of the house, and, using my preternatural senses to check if I was alone (and I was), I leaped onto the roof as Riley came barreling into where I'd just been standing. He whipped his head around wildly, searching for me, but I was nowhere to be found, so he sprinted off to keep looking for the culprit while continuing to scrub at his eyes.

Peter had dealt with a similar scenario.

When the rest of the family caught up with us, it was clear that the atmosphere had changed. The majority were still cracking up. Some were most definitely _not_.

"Would you care to explain what you're looking so smug about, Whitlock?" Bella asked in that mildly pleasant but still dangerous voice. It was another characteristic Mord-Sith thing.

She advanced on Jasper with a determined and deadly sort of grace, her gait that of a predator and Jazz was her prey.

And the fucker did look smug. He looked as smug as I felt over nailing Quarterdouche between the eyes, and I wondered briefly if Jasper had told me the truth about why he'd wanted me to go after the kid. Seeing Bella's reaction to my attack on Quarterdouche made me wonder if she liked him more than she was letting on, and that maybe Jazz somehow knew that and had used me to pick on a potential boyfriend as an underhanded way of sticking it to her and continuing their feud. Under different circumstances I might think he'd done it because he was jealous, but Jasper was a direct kind of guy. If he wanted Bella, he would be doing something about it, and if he was jealous of Riley Dwyer, he would have taken care of it himself. At any rate, I didn't care because I'd hit my target and gotten to be a big brother simultaneously. So Riley didn't know I was the one who'd nearly blinded him. If he made any moves, I'd make sure he got a clue that his advances were not fucking welcome.

Why Bella wasn't marching her happy ass up to me and giving _me_hell since I was the one responsible for what she was obviously pissed about was a mystery. She was still making a beeline for Jasper.

When she got half a foot away from him, she stopped. Jasper, of course, stood his ground, looking down at her with some amusement added to his smugness. She remained unshakably in character, no emotion on her face except for the fire flaring in her eyes and that wisp of a smile.

"I don't have to explain anything to you, _sugar_," Jasper drawled lazily. He put extra emphasis on "sugar" just like he always did when he wanted to rile her up that much more. Calling her "sugar" riled her up no matter how much emphasis he put on it, and I wondered how he knew it bothered her because he'd seemed to know before they'd ever actually traded an insult or, scratch that, an actual word.

Bella spun her prop Agiel up into her fist again and pressed it into Jasper's throat. "You may call me 'Mistress' or 'Mistress Bella'. 'Sugar' is not acceptable, and I would suggest you tell me what I want to know, my pet."

Jasper's eyes went from gold to black like a flash of lightning streaking across the sky and abruptly extinguishing. His jaw noticeably clenched, his teeth grinding together, and his hands curled into fists at his sides, twitching every now and again as though he was trying to hold himself back. Bella was playing with fire. This was a game to her, but she really had no fucking clue who she was fucking with, how dangerous Jasper really was. I was tempted to step in, but Peter was always insisting that Jasper would never hurt her, and I believed and trusted him—I trusted them both. That didn't mean I wouldn't be ready to break things up if I had to, and I would have help with that if it was needed. Until then, none of us had any reason to interfere, and if any of us even tried ... yeah, I wanted to walk away from this night with both my handcrafted and God-given junk intact.

One corner of Jasper's mouth curled up, but, other than that and his black irises, that was the only change of emotion in his face. "Oh, _sugar_, I ain't no one's pet, and you sure as _hell _ain't my Mistress," he purred dangerously, his accent coming out more thickly than I'd heard in a very long time. "So good luck with that."

That wisp of a smile of hers widened again, but it was in a different way from when she'd directed it at me and Peter. I just couldn't place what, exactly, was different about it. "I don't need luck," Bella promised him brazenly, and then she dragged her Agiel from his throat downward—over his collarbone, his pec, his abs, right down over what would have been the guy's happy trail if he'd been shirtless, and his pelvic bone—until it rested in a very dangerous place. **"Now get on your knees, and ask for my forgiveness."**

My mouth dropped open. _Holy shit! Did she really just say that? _

She was taking this role play shit a little too fucking far. I really was going to kill Alice, and man, if things were different, and Jasper actually _did _want her ... he was in some serious fucking trouble.

Jasper's eyes flashed with defiance, rage and something else I couldn't place, and the other corner of his mouth twitched up, but he didn't respond. He just stood there, waiting, which shocked me—he normally would not stand for that shit. Waiting for what, I didn't know. And then whatever it was he was waiting for happened ...

Bella finally lost her wisp of a smile, replacing it with a full-blown saucy smirk, as she said, "Don't say I didn't warn you, _my __pet_."

Then she moved around his back all quick-like and jarred the backs of his knees with one of her shins. She couldn't have actually done it hard enough to make Jazz's knees buckle, but he let them. He even seemed to be expecting that she would do something like that because I swore the fucker was prepared. He was just starting his descent to the pavement when she reached his front again, ready to watch him kneeling before her, but Jasper had other plans. With incredible, yet still human, speed, he clasped a hand around one of her wrists and the other on her hip, and jerked ... hard.

"If you're gonna bring me to my knees," Jasper growled. "I'm takin' you down with me, _sugar_."

Bella's knees hit the sidewalk with just as much force as Jasper's.

oOo

*This is a partial quote from chapter 41 of _Wizard's First Rule _by Terry Goodkind.*

**This is a direct quote from chapter 41 of _Wizard's First Rule _by Terry Goodkind.**

I can't give page numbers because I have the books on my Kindle, and they don't give page numbers.

oOo

**A/N:** So, there you go ... Bella's first time trick-or-treating. I'm pretty sure Emmett and Peter made it memorable. :) Hopefully everyone found it funny and not offensive.

We got to hear from Bella, Jasper and Emmett, and not all of it was pure fluff and hijinks. We got a peek at just how observant Edward really is, hear his take on Jasper and Bella's relationship and enjoy a bit more of his and Jasper's dynamic. We got to see Bella torture Jasper some more, some intentional and some not, and we got some background on Emmett, learn more about his feelings for Bella and hear his insights and take on Jasper and Bella's relationship as well. I hope everyone enjoyed all of that. It certainly was a blast to write.

I cannot take credit for Emmett and Peter's costume. That honor goes to my dad—it was the Halloween costume he was wearing the night he met my mom, and yes it was fully-functional. He is ... creative and ... quirky ... and a little off-beat, to say the least, but I love him to pieces. I have and always will be a Daddy's girl. :) Emmett and Peter heard the story of how my parents met and just ran away with it. My dad was also a firefighter, so as strange as it might seem, this chapter is a bit of an homage to him, his sense of humor and his lifetime of public service.

I do not own Mord-Sith. They belong to Terry Goodkind. He has requested that no one write _Sword of Truth _or_ Legend of the Seeker_ fanfic, so I hope it's okay that I used Mord-Sith as Bella's costume. Mord-Sith are warriors who are taken as little girls and broken three times in order to be made into what they are. That reminds me very much of Bella, and they act a lot like dominatrixes, so I thought it would be kind of fun to play around with that—and to torture Jasper with it a little, of course. :)

If you want to learn more about Mord-Sith, check out the link on my profile. The _Sword of Truth_ novels are amazing. I highly recommend them, and they will be mentioned a few times in the story because I feel the theme of them fits well into Longing. That theme is that you only have one life, it belongs to you, you should never let anyone or anything take that life or the decisions you make away from you and that it is your responsibility to rise up and live the one life you are given. Those themes very much remind me of Jasper and Bella in this story, and I had those things in mind when I started to write it.

What do you all think of Bella and Jasper's little confrontation there? :) Just to reassure you all, part of their misunderstanding is going to be cleared up very soon—as in the next chapter.

If you want to see pictures of everyone's costumes, with the exception of Emmett and Peter's, you can check them out on my photobucket album for Longing. The link can be found on my profile. Yeah, I don't have pics of Em and Pete's costume. Thank you so much to Deebelle1 for the manip of Jasper in a fireman's uniform. Love ya dear! You're awesome! :)

Take care.


	38. Chapter 30 Part 1

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm only borrowing her characters for a little while. The plot and original characters of Longing do belong to me, however. Jasper as the God of War and Peter "just knowing shit" are ideas that belong to Idreamofeddy.

Thanks to my beloved sister Shelljayz, my beta, prereader and best friend. Thank you also to juliangelus for prereading. Your feedback was invaluable.

I so appreciate each and every one of you who have read, followed, favorited and reviewed Longing. Halloween appears to be a hit, and it thrills me that so many people enjoyed it.

oOo

_Monday, November 1st, 2080_

JPOV

I was waiting in Carlisle's office at the hospital, sitting in one of the comfortable chairs in front of his desk instead of the couch, and I was fuckin' jittery, the way a human would feel after they'd drunk way too much coffee or downed too many cans of Red Bull. I'd absorbed that shit before, and it wasn't pleasant.

I had told Carlisle the night before that I needed to speak with him but that it had to be in private, being careful to let the Major sit in the driver's seat with one hand on the wheel so Alice wouldn't see, but with one of mine firmly on it as well to hold him back from taking over completely. That would be nothing short of a fuckin' disaster at the moment, but he did need to be partially in charge, since his mind worked so differently—making decisions without actually making decisions, operating solely on instinct. I'd already let Alice see what had happened between me and Edward as well as accidentally letting her in on my birthday gift hunt, but this? This, she couldn't see yet. Carlisle was the test run, and my maiden voyage of this shit had to start out confidential. This was the only way to ensure she couldn't unintentionally pry.

Peter and Charlotte were camped out in the staff lounge, located not far from his office. Carlisle was the Chief of Staff at Forks General, their most brilliant and versatile physician, one of only two surgeons, and that came with certain perks. One of those perks was getting away with letting Pete and Char loiter where they didn't belong with no questions asked. The two of them were here to come to my rescue if I pussied out like a little bitch as I told Carlisle the pertinent parts of what was going on, which was unlikely. This would be hard, ridiculously so, but I was _not _nor had I ever been a little bitch. They were also here to come to Carlisle's rescue if I lost my shit.

Carlisle had returned to his office three and a half minutes ago just after completing surgery on a victim who'd been in a car accident. I had been waiting a long time, and my nerves were fuckin' shot. Though I had not been forced into this decision, I still did not want to talk about this.

We had been watching each other for the whole of those three and a half minutes, Carlisle sitting there silently as I collected my thoughts. That was the kind of thing Carlisle did, and it was sorely needed at the moment.

He sensed that I was near ready to begin our discussion, but my conflict over it must have been evident. I really was losing it, the emotions and resulting facial expressions I was always so in control of beginning to falter. I did not fuckin' like it, but for this conversation I supposed the openness and all that "wearing your heart on your sleeve" bullshit could be an asset. It needed to be an asset because I didn't want to think about this conversation strategically. This was me speaking to my father/brother/whatever the fuck else Carlisle molded himself into for me to look up to, and strategy shouldn't have anything to do with it unless that strategy involved figuring out how the hell to get all the shit I'd deemed relevant out.

"What's on your mind, Jasper?" he asked, ending my preliminary struggle. My primary one, unfortunately, had just begun.

I hesitated a moment more, sighing. I hoped Carlisle wouldn't be hurt or angry that I'd kept this quiet for so long, though there was a part of me that didn't give a shit.

"I've been having a difficult time lately," I finally said. My back straightened and my body went rigid as those words left my lips.

He waited to see if I would continue before he responded, pausing for several seconds to make sure. I didn't continue. This was the first time I'd discussed this with anyone other than Peter and Charlotte, people who had actually been there to experience it and what had caused it. I didn't know _how _to continue; at least not without some sort of prompting or direction.

"'Lately' is a rather vague term," he said. "Perhaps you could get a bit more specific."

"I'm not sure how long it's been goin' on," I admitted. "I didn't notice I was havin' problems until the rug was pulled out from under me, so to speak. When I begin heading in the direction I've been heading in, my realization isn't usually so brutal."

"Is that why Peter and Charlotte decided to move to Forks?" Carlisle queried astutely.

I nodded. "They're the ones that picked up on it when I didn't, when I _should _have."

I returned to silence after that.

"You don't need to be hesitant in sharing your struggles with me, Jasper. I won't judge you. I'm here to listen and support you and to do whatever else I can to help," he vowed wholeheartedly.

I nodded again. I wondered if I would find my voice. It seemed to have abandoned me.

It was several more minutes before I spoke again. "I go through periods where my gift gets out of control."

"I haven't noticed anything that would suggest your gift is beyond your control," he said with a frown.

"You're assuming there's only one way for me to lose control of it," I observed. It was a logical assumption. Most would never think to look at things from both ends of the spectrum. Truthfully, my position was entirely unique ... unless Maria had found herself another empath in the years since I'd gone. No stories of a second God of War had been swirling around the vampire world and that was not shit that could be hidden, even from us Cullens, who lived such an alternative and abnormal lifestyle, so I knew she hadn't. Maria _couldn't _create another God of War without Savannah, and Savannah was dead.

"I don't follow," Carlisle admitted.

"Losin' control of my gift is all about keepin' my ability to project in check. On one end of the spectrum, there's the inability to keep myself from projecting feelings into the atmosphere around me, which is generally the only way most of the few empaths there are lose control. On the other, rarely visited end of that spectrum, there's the inability to project at all," I explained.

I had just opened the can of worms, and I wasn't terribly surprised to find that all I felt was indifference now that I had. That emotion, or lack of it, was something I felt a lot, more than was probably healthy. I was sure I would give a shit later. What I did not care for at the moment was how Carlisle was studying me with keen interest, like I was some sort of fuckin' science experiment. I knew he didn't mean to—voracious inquisitiveness was as much a part of his personality as his compassion. It was unnerving, but it failed to break through the fog of my apathy.

"I see," he said. He leaned forward in his chair and folded his hands on the surface of his desk as he listened.

I found it really difficult to continue with only that as a jump off point. It would have been better if he'd asked questions.

"Losin' control of my ability to project emotions into the atmosphere around me is actually not the worst thing in the world. For an empath, projecting is healthy, necessary. It's kind of like the release humans get from crying," I elaborated, my accent all but disappearing because I was strung so tight. "You understand how difficult it is not to be able to release that emotion since all vampires share the inability to cry, but it's different for me ... worse. I'm not saying I need to go around sobbing like my balls have shriveled up and retreated back from whence they fuckin' came, but if I can't release the emotions I absorb, they build up, and they continue to build and multiply until I go fuckin' crazy."

Carlisle studied me intently, his emotions going haywire. They reminded me of Bella's when we'd first met—flickering so fast it was impossible to separate one from another. I could feel them but not interpret what they were.

"The concept itself makes sense enough, but, Jasper, if I'm being honest, I have to tell you that I don't truly understand what that means," he said. "I'm hoping you'll explain."

"Well ..." I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes and blew out a gust of air, trying to figure out how the hell to explain this mind fuck. "I suppose you can think of me as a bank vault and emotions as money. Every emotion I come into contact with is like a deposit into an account that is comprised of my gift. The interest rate at this figurative bank of mine is sky high, and the rate that the money in that account increases because of it is exponential and not in a good way. That money is the physical, paper kind, and even when so much has been shoved into the vault that it's pressing into every crevice, it can't be moved to a bigger one. Eventually the vault can't physically hold any more money but more and more gets crammed into it anyway. There comes a point when the walls of the vault are no longer a match for the pressure of its contents and they burst at the seams. You can also compare me to a powder keg that's just waiting for me to reach that emotional breaking point before the fuse is lit and I blow to high heaven, decimating everything within a hundred mile radius."

Carlisle turned contemplative. "Does this have to do with your time in the Southern Wars, Jasper?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes, sir," I responded, my voice a monotone. I needed all this to be as emotionless as possible on my part. It was the only way I would be able to get through it. It wasn't all that difficult. My indifference from minutes ago was lingering and taking the edge off of my anxiety, but the anxiety was still there, buried beneath it.

He nodded, mild surprise decorating his features and coloring his emotions. He hadn't been expecting me to admit any connection to the Southern Wars. I never admitted that my issues were, but that didn't make it any less obvious that the Southern Wars were the root of the bulk of them.

I then told Carlisle some of the things I'd told Edward two days before—that there was a difference between the Major and the God of War, about the torture while I was still human and how Maria had used it to secure my loyalty though I didn't discuss it in the same context as I had with my brother. I didn't mention anything about Alice or mating. Those were things I felt needed to stay between me and Edward as a brotherly bonding thing. It was also important that we alone shared that experience because of the history we shared over our relationships with Alice. As for mating, discussing that at all left a sour taste in my mouth. I also failed to see the relevance of that shit in relation to what was going on and so didn't see why he needed to know.

Mostly, I talked about Savannah.

"So this vampire, Savannah, created the God of War?" Carlisle asked with blatant, inquisitive interest.

"No," I responded, stiffening further. If I was human, my muscles would fuckin' hurt. "It was very much a joint fuckin' effort on Maria's and her part. Savannah's gift facilitated the process and allowed Maria to do the shit she deemed necessary to 'forge such a warrior.' That is an oversimplified explanation though. Savannah and her gift did play more of a part in all that, but I didn't come here to discuss all the gruesome details nor do I care to. One of the things you probably _should _know is that she altered my gift in such a way that when the God of War decides to pay me a visit without my permission, positive emotions don't affect me the way they ordinarily do. Normally I can absorb, trap and multiply them just like any other emotion, but I can't do that because there's no way all the negative emotions—the ones required to bring on the God of War—can build up and multiply enough to drive me that fuckin' crazy. Those positive emotions are there, I can feel them, but they're so diluted they just flow straight through me. I can't hang onto them long enough to form a counterbalance to the negative, but if they're strong enough, they can sometimes provide enough of an anchor to keep me from snapping."

Carlisle nodded, taking all of this in shrewdly. I knew before he spoke again that he would leave the subject of Savannah alone for now.

He raised his folded hands just underneath and in front of his chin. "Have there been incidents that have led you to conclude you're struggling aside from your inability to project?"

I dropped my gaze from his but only for a moment. "Peter's and my wrestling match, the one that destroyed about a mile of forest, happened as a result of him intercepting me before I tore into Emmett, and the days I sequestered myself on that rock off of First Beach were out of guilt for almost attacking Rose."

"I suppose you really are a mess," he sighed.

I snorted, my amusement minuscule but still there. "'Mess' is one word for it. I generally go with 'fucked up beyond all recognition' or 'severely fucked in the head,' but 'mess' does work."

"It may not be my place to tell you how to speak anywhere else, Jasper, but I won't have you speaking about yourself that way in my office," Carlisle scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. Whatever amusement I may have found in the situation, he clearly didn't share it.

I shrugged, not bothering to comment.

"This is why you voted no," he said. I could tell it was partially to himself and partially to me.

"Not entirely," I said. I was not about to reveal my other reasons for not wanting Bella to move in. There was only so much I was willing to cop to, and the rest of my reasons were not included in those things. "But I don't want Bella's blood on my hands, Carlisle. It has been nearly fifty-one years since I've fucked up and killed a human, and there have been several times when I've struggled through exactly this. You have no idea what a fuckin' miracle that is. I owe that to Peter and Charlotte, and they're here for me now just as much as they've always been, but this time is different. I can't quite put my finger on how, but it is.

"The bottom line is, I don't want to break my half-century record, and I especially don't want it to be Bella's blood I spill if I do."

"I'd rather that not be the case as well," he agreed.

"She's still annoying, and she still pisses me off, but as much as I hate to admit it, she's grown on me," I told him hesitantly. Carlisle grinned. I scowled. "But only a little. Don't you be expectin' me to start throwin' out offers to braid her hair or stick my nose up her ass."

"I would never dare to expect that," he assured me, finally finding his sense of humor.

It occurred to me in that instant that I probably _would _braid Bella's hair if she asked me to. It was an irritating, unwanted and disturbing thought that I shoved to the back of my mind and fully intended to repress. That shit was not something I would contemplate. I revisited how fuckin' pissed I was at her for pulling that dominance shit with me the night before to help with that, but I was closer to forgiving her for her little stunt than I thought I would be, so pushing it to the back of my mind happened more out of sheer force of will.

_You are such a little pussy, _I berated myself irritably.

_That we can agree on, my friend, _the Major piped up. _You're fuckin' blind too, but I'm gonna continue to let that slide ... for now._

_Whatever, _I snapped at my unwanted mental conversationalist. _Your opinion is—_

_I'm perfectly aware of your opinion on _my _opinions. I hold yours in equally high regard of late, you fuckin' idiot. I am _almost _ashamed we are one and the same. You've been highly disappointing lately, _he informed me, his tone blasé despite that disappointment because I knew that he was. I was beginning to become irritated by it. He _was _me, after all.

I returned my focus to Carlisle and the matter at hand, zeroing in on him and scanning him thoroughly with my gift and senses. There was not even a hint of irritation or anger in his emotions or his body language.

"You're not angry with me," I noted.

"You were expecting me to be, I take it," Carlisle observed, though it wasn't a brilliant observation. He didn't wait for me to respond even though he hadn't posed a question. "Why didn't you tell me before now?"

"I was hopin' the situation would resolve itself before it became necessary," I admitted honestly.

"I suppose that's why you're expecting me to be angry?" he asked, his emotions still utterly calm.

I nodded.

"Would you care to impart your reasons for wanting to keep this between yourself, Peter and Charlotte?"

My indifference was beginning to fade some, but it was still present enough that it would help me discuss that aspect of things more easily. "Primarily because I have been tryin' to protect you and the family from that part of myself practically since we met, and I've never been lookin' to change that."

Carlisle emoted a brief sense of hurt at that, but his placidity returned more quickly than I would have thought. That was Carlisle though—forever composed and patient. "Why do you think we need protecting, Jasper?"

"You've all lived sheltered lives for vampires," I stated bluntly. "I'm not discounting the things all of you have been through or diminishing your struggles and triumphs. I know that, of everyone, you've lived the least cushy existence, and that you are far more aware of the realities of our world than the others. Your age, time alone and the decades you spent with the Volturi exposed you to those things, but even so, those experiences can't measure up to the reality of a vampire war. I'm not real keen on the idea of enlightening you, even more particularly everyone else, and bursting that bubble or sharing how I was when I was knee deep in blood and body parts, both vampire and human, during that war."

"I can understand that," Carlisle sympathized, but he couldn't. Not really. "But you're family, Jasper. I certainly won't judge you for the person you were then. Your circumstances weren't ones you were in control of, and you're right. I've never fought in a war … not as a vampire or as a human. I don't have the first clue what that must have been like. I do know enough about the Wars to understand that it took the brutal reality of our existence and elevated it to levels I could never fathom. It wouldn't be fair of me to form judgments without a frame of reference to put it all into perspective. No matter what you tell me about your time fighting, I won't lose any respect for you."

"So I've been told," I said wryly. Carlisle didn't respond to that, just waited with unassuming grace for me to continue. "I did thousands of vile things throughout the century I fought. I probably don't feel as guilty as I should over it all, though many of them I do regret. As Edward so kindly pointed out the other day, I didn't know any different, and I think that's always made it easier to swallow. You don't need protecting from that knowledge. You already know it, and it's vague enough not to distort the perception you've nurtured in the others for so long. What I've tirelessly been fighting to shield you all from is the part of me that enjoyed all that shit because there _is _a part of me that did. The blood, the sex, the power, the battle, the kill—all of that is deeply connected to what it means to be a vampire, and I was the worst kind of vampire. I may not have been given a choice, and there are a lot of things about the life I led while I served that I fuckin' hated, most of which are directly connected to Maria, Savannah and the things I've told you about them, but I can't erase or deny the part of me that liked it all to some degree."

"Of course you _liked _it, Jasper," he acknowledged, to my surprise. "Any vampire turned under those circumstances would. I am not naive nor am I stupid, and I would have to be both not to recognize that. At one point, a very long time ago, I _was _those things, and I may have reacted to what you're telling me in a very different way." My eyes were practically popping out of my head, and he chuckled. "I'm not perfect. It took me a century or two to grow into this wisdom you all seem to think I have. It was awhile before I came to accept that the laws of humanity don't always apply to the vampire world even if I wish it was different, and blood, the kill and sex _are _integral parts of vampirism. They are ingrained in us, instinctual. Those are things we can't fight against in their totality, Jasper. Those are things we can't help but to enjoy. This may surprise you to know, but I do take pleasure in the hunt and the kill, even if I've never had the desire to hunt humans. You most certainly know how much I take pleasure in being with Esme."

I coughed uncomfortably because I did _not _want to think about that. What truly shocked me was discovering that Carlisle, the man who so cherished _all _life, found the hunt and the kill exhilarating. I could feel it because he'd conjured it forth, and it threw me off-kilter.

"As for the battle, the power and the rest, I don't have much experience with them," Carlisle shrugged. "The fact of the matter is that human blood is what calls to us, not animal. That is the natural order of things for our species, and as much as I value human life and hate the idea of hunting them, that doesn't necessarily make the decision to live off our natural food source the wrong one. The family and I, now you, and perhaps even Peter and Charlotte—_we _are the anomalies, and that's okay. Another thing you might find surprising is that I don't always find the taste of animal blood that appetizing," he admitted matter-of-factly.

I was expecting this little chat of ours to be full of revelations and all sorts of personal shit on my end that I didn't find appealing. I should have known Carlisle would find some way to even the score because he was fuckin' Carlisle. I appreciated it, but what he'd shared still left me reeling.

"I don't know why things are different for me, why they're ... easier. They aren't effortless by any means, but it _is _easier. It always has been for me to fight my instincts, but that's exactly what they are—instincts. They call them that for a reason, Jasper, and it is incredibly difficult to fight them. Even so, I do still believe we have a choice, as hard as it might be to make. I can't fault other vampires for the lifestyle they choose to lead," Carlisle continued. "And the reason I can't is because how they live is their choice alone, which brings us back to the root of things. As you pointed out and obviously need to be reminded of, you weren't given a choice in the way you were brought into this life, though nearly everyone who finds themselves a vampire ever is, nor were you given a choice in how you went about living the first century of it. The blood, the sex, the battle—those are things you would have enjoyed no matter what, but can you tell me with certainty that you would have enjoyed them with as much zeal if your situation had been different?"

"No, I can't," I said. I still couldn't picture any other life for those first decades or imagine myself as anyone other than who I'd been then or who I was now. "But does that really matter? The reality is that that _is _how I was brought in to this life, and nothing will ever change that just as nothing will ever fuckin' change that zeal, and I'll never know how much I would or would not have enjoyed the fight, the blood, the sex, the power and everything else if things had been different. What I _do _know is that if it weren't for my gift and the way it wore me down, I highly doubt even Peter would have managed to get through to me or convince me to leave. I probably would have killed the asshole right after his newborn year just like all the others, no matter how useful he was."

"Perhaps, but you don't know that just the same as you'll never know the degree to which you would have enjoyed the fight, the blood, the sex and whatever else your time there entailed if your circumstances were different. To be frank, I don't think you're being honest with yourself, Jasper."

"What does _that _mean?" I demanded, scowling. My hands curled around the armrests of the chair I was sitting in, and the leather creaked with the force of my grip but didn't tear … yet.

Carlisle sighed, but his emotions were steely and resolute. "It means that while there is a part of you that enjoyed those things, there is another part of you that didn't, and I'm not talking strictly about the things Maria and Savannah put you through. I believe there is a part of you that suffered a great deal as a result of the battles themselves."

I frowned but didn't respond because I had none.

"Can I ask you some questions, Jasper?"

I regarded Carlisle warily. I knew I wouldn't care for whatever questions he planned to ask, but I had to at least let him pose them. That was the whole point of this.

"I suppose."

"You've always been a very private man and have always made it clear just how much you don't wish to discuss your past," he said. "I have always respected that, and I'm shocked you've come to me and opened up as much as you have. I don't like prying, but there are some things I need to know. However, if some of these questions are too difficult for you to answer, I won't force you to or badger you about them. Does that sound fair?"

My expression turned wry. "Is there ever a time when you request something that isn't? It's really annoying, Carlisle."

"I suppose I could work on that," Carlisle said, amusement tinging his voice.

"You might want to consider it," I said. "It might help the rest of us to stop feelin' so woefully fuckin' inadequate."

His expression darkened briefly, and his emotions darkened with it, but neither lasted because he pulled himself together and went into doctor mode. If I didn't like where this was going before, I really didn't fuckin' like it now.

"Do you know what causes you to lose control of your ability to project?"

_Oh joy, the fun part begins …_

"That's not always clear, but it can sometimes be caused by something related to an experience I had during my time in the Wars. Then again, sometimes it's not. It's still difficult to figure out exactly what's at the root of it. I can tell you what happens as a result though. My control over my temper and my control over the Major and the God of War in particular is balanced on a hair trigger. Sometimes I can identify that trigger, but there are other times when I have no idea what the trigger is," I told him. "There are also times when I might very well know what the trigger is but can't remember it because I'm not always aware when I lose control or it happens so fast that it's impossible to tell. I suppose it's the vampire equivalent of blacking out, and when I lose awareness I can never remember what I did. The evidence always gives me some idea, but how the damage was done? I don't have a damn clue unless Peter and Charlotte fill me in."

"Alright," Carlisle said slowly, thoughtfully. "Would you consider the Major and the God of War separate personalities?"

"No," I answered immediately, once again glad I was so indifferent at the moment. If I wasn't, I probably would have torn his head off for asking that. As it was, as soon as Carlisle had started asking these questions, Peter and Charlotte had moved from the staff lounge to flank either side of his office door. "Well, they are but they aren't," I backtracked. It was a reluctant admission, but I had come this far. I might as well continue to plow ahead. I _was _still feeling the urge to rip his head off though. "After Peter and Charlotte got me out of that hellhole, they continued to draw more and more of my humanity to the surface, but it was overwhelming. I was the Major for one hundred and two years and the God of War for thirty-four. The three of those things did not mesh well, and I couldn't separate them from each other. They were this huge mess, a swirling jumble of shit tearin' me apart from the inside out. I was wild and crazy and fuckin' unstable. I kept switching back and forth from not bein' able to stop from projecting those feelings and not bein' able to project at all, goin' from depressed to caged animal to wounded animal fightin' for its life and back again. My head was chaos. _I _was chaos.

"Eventually, the only way the three of us could think might contain that chaos was to separate the three. That's when I started to teach myself how to compartmentalize, to establish very clear boundaries between 'Jasper'—the most human part of me, 'the Major,' and the 'God of War.' It took years but it worked. The thing of it is, is that each of them are so different and strong-willed that they take on a life of their own at times. I can hear the Major in my head. He speaks to me, reminds me that I'm still him even though I'm not entirely. The God of War is different. That part of me doesn't speak at all. There's too much pain and rage there for words. It lurks and waits. It's mindless, careless, sadistic, apathetic. It is insanity in its purest form, and that's the persona I have to keep locked away the tightest. The Major I don't have to keep on such a tight lockdown. He's like a second skin I can slip into and out of with ease. He's kind of a comfort. He's who I was for a century, and he's familiar, so I do become him from time to time. I don't do it a lot, but I _do _do it when I need to disconnect because sometimes I really do need to. It's all very difficult to explain. I suppose that those parts of me can be considered separate personalities, and in a way, I also suppose I sometimes picture them that way because it's easier to make sense of it, but they're not. Fuck!" I exclaimed in frustration, some emotion finally leaking through. "This is hard! I don't know if I'm makin' any sense!"

I pushed that frustration back and clung to the indifference. I was good at that.

Empathy flooded Carlisle's emotions until I couldn't feel anything else from him. It was annoying. Peter and Charlotte were trying to remain stoic outside, but they were in shock. They'd known the game plan, but I'd never gone into much detail about how I'd finally wrestled who I was during the Wars into submission and figured out how to ride the line between "Jasper" and "the Major" without letting "the Major" rule me. I had flat out _never _told them about hearing the Major speak to me. They dealt with enough of my crazy, and I didn't think it was that big of a deal. I ignored their shock in the same way I was ignoring my frustration and Carlisle's empathy.

"You are making sense, Jasper," Carlisle told me. I could feel that he wanted to say more on that; I was expecting him to, but he didn't. He asked another question instead. "You've already said you can slip into and out of the Major with ease, but are there times when you don't have trouble controlling your ability to project that you have a hard time with that persona or the God of War?"

"For the most part I've got the Major well in hand, but there are some times when I'm caught by surprise, and he takes over without my permission. It's something I've learned to deal with, and it's not necessarily a bad thing," I responded. "The Major is cold and sadistic, but he's controlled, logical, deliberate and calculating even though he operates on instinct. I never do anything without a reason when I'm him. Whether my reasons for doing something are good ones as the Major can be debatable, but I'm not mindless, and I'm still capable of loyalty. I can bring on the God of War at will if I really want to, but that's not something I care to do because once I transition into that persona, I can't pull myself _out _of it at will. Part of it is because it's so mindless, but the majority of it is because I can't harness all that emotion and power. As I said, it builds and multiplies and amplifies until it explodes out of me, and I can't stop it from pouring out until I've spent it, which was the whole point of creating the God of War. That's what Maria wanted, and that's what Savannah enabled her to do. There are only two people I've never tried to kill while in God of War mode, and Peter is one of them. I'm sure you can guess who the other is."

Carlisle nodded. "Are there times when you struggle with memories from the battles you fought and of Maria?"

"Struggle how?"

"Do you have flashbacks?" he clarified.

"Yes."

"Do you ever see or hear things that aren't there?" he asked carefully.

I frowned, not understanding what he meant.

My expression must have illustrated that because he elaborated. "Things that may be connected to your time in battle or your experiences with Maria? Hallucinations, in other words."

My brows furrowed, and I began to grow uncomfortable. "Why are you askin' me this, Carlisle?"

"Can you just humor me, Jasper?" he responded, a pleading edge to his voice and emotions and his hands twitching just slightly.

"Sometimes," I said hesitantly. "But it's rare … really rare."

Carlisle nodded again and then continued with his questioning. "Do you avoid things that remind you of Maria and your time in the Wars?"

My discomfort increased as did my confusion, my fingers tightening on the armrests, but I continued to humor him, and I didn't know why. "Yes."

"Touching," Carlisle stated with certainty. My gaze dropped from his for a moment. When I brought my eyes back to his, my expression was hard. I didn't respond, but he didn't need me to because it wasn't something I could deny. "Are there times when you lose interest in things?"

"Like how?" I asked warily.

"Do things you truly enjoy suddenly lose any and all appeal?"

I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth and bit down in my irritation before I answered. "Sometimes," I muttered irritably.

He gave another thoughtful nod. "I know with our eidetic memories this might seem like a ridiculous question, but aside from your blackouts, are there any lapses in your memory?"

"No," I snapped.

"Yes," Peter's voice sounded quietly from outside the door.

"What the hell are you talkin' about, Pete?" I demanded.

"Later," he answered just as quietly.

"Fine," I growled, my fury evident. Peter and Charlotte's emotions were somber and dejected, and if I wasn't so furious, I would be apprehensive.

Carlisle's emotions had also turned grave, but they had also taken on an air of determination that drew my attention back to him. His expression was contemplative but still clinical. There was hardly a trace of my father figure in the man sitting before me. This was Carlisle the doctor, and I did not fuckin' like it. "And how do you feel most of the time?"

"I'm a fuckin' empath, Carlisle!" I shouted, my patience wearing thin. "I _feel _everything!"

"I don't mean the emotions of others," he said calmly. "I mean, what do you, yourself, feel?"

I huffed in exasperation and ground my teeth together. "Sometimes I feel just like every other person does, but a lot of the time I feel detached and numb or angry and irritable. Then there are times when I feel so much it overwhelms me."

It was getting more and more difficult to answer Carlisle's questions, especially as my aggravation continued to mount. It would have helped if I knew what his motivations were and where the hell he was going with all of this.

His emotions were swallowed up by guilt, and as aggravated as I was, I felt the need to reassure him. "I'm really good at hiding that shit, Carlisle."

He nodded, his guilt only lessening a little. "Have you ever been happy?" he asked next.

"No," I admitted brusquely. "I've felt it before, obviously, but it's never been mine."

Carlisle sighed and defeat filled him, but it was a brief sentiment. He regained his professionalism and composure quickly. "Do you have problems relating to others?"

My teeth ground together harder, and my eyes narrowed. "Yes," I responded sharply, my jaw so tense I barely got that one word out.

"How often do you feel tense or on edge?"

"Enough!" I shouted, slamming my fist down on his desk hard enough to crack the wood. "Why the hell are you askin' me these things?"

Carlisle stared at me for a long time, studying my face so intently I again felt the urge to rip his head off.

"Jasper," he began slowly. "Have you ever considered that you might have post-traumatic stress?"

"What?"

"All the questions I just asked you are diagnostic ones," he informed.

I reared back as if he'd slapped me. "Diagnostic questions, Carlisle?" I repeated in utter disbelief. "I just opened up to you about my past and you diagnose me? What the fuck? What makes you think you have the fuckin' right?"

He turned his head away from me, his features twisting in remorse, and his emotions clouding over with sadness, but as contradictory as it was, there was no regret in them. There was only resolution. He straightened his back and turned to me again. That resolution was clear on his face and in his eyes. "Maybe I don't, but that doesn't change the fact that you answered yes to every question I just asked you, and there were questions I didn't have to ask you to know that the answer to them is yes. A person doesn't need to have all the symptoms to be diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder. So, have you ever considered it?"

"No!" I barked, digging my fingernails instead of just my fingertips into the seat of the chair I was sitting in and relishing in the noise of the fabric tearing. "Why would I? That's a human thing."

"There are many things that make us different from humans," Carlisle said. "When we're changed, the venom stops our hearts and the flow of our blood, converting it to our own venom. It eliminates our need to breathe and to eat human food, replacing it with the thirst for blood. It burns away some of our conscience, but despite all the aforementioned things, we are essentially still human, Jasper. As we just discussed, our instincts are powerful, but at our core, most of us still want all the same things that humans do: love, companionship, a place to call home and so much else. We experience all the same emotions only amplified, and let's not forget that our species is derived from humans. Without humans, we would not exist, and though we, as individuals, do change as a result of the transition, we do retain our human personalities to a certain extent. Gifted vampires are a prime example of this. So you see, vampires are just as susceptible to the effects of trauma as humans are. How can you look at Rosalie's first decades as a vampire and not see that I'm right?"

And Carlisle was right … about some of it. Vampires did crave love and companionship. It was why they formed covens or, in our case, a family. The mating bond was rooted in our need, both biological and psychological, for love, and Rosalie _had _been traumatized, but that didn't mean I was.

My arms folded over my chest, and I radiated defiance, or I would have if I could fuckin' project. I didn't speak. I was too angry to.

Carlisle sighed again, but his determination didn't lessen. "Jasper," he said patiently. "There are soldiers that only fight in one battle and come back from it affected by post-traumatic stress. You were at war for a little over a century. Having PTSD doesn't make you weak, and it doesn't mean you're sick. All it means is that you haven't learned a healthy way to deal with the things you've been through."

"Whatever."

"You don't have to agree with my diagnosis," he said. "But that doesn't make me wrong. I have been a doctor for a long time. I know what I'm talking about. I'm not saying these things to make you angry or to hurt you. I'm saying them because I've been watching you for 96 years, and I might not have known everything, I know I still don't, but I've observed a lot of the symptoms for as long as I've known you. You are damn good at concealing your true emotions and keeping things to yourself, and you may be a mystery, but your pain isn't. I have never liked seeing you suffer. I have never liked seeing you being torn apart from the inside out, and I've never been able to say anything about it because I've always respected your wishes to retain your privacy. I hardly ever know what to say to you or what to do when you're sucked under, and you've limited my ability to try by keeping all this to yourself. Even if you'd been open about it, I don't know _how _to be there for you because I can't understand your trauma. Being able to definitively diagnose you doesn't change that, but it does help me understand _better_. _This _I have the ability to comprehend, not on a personal level but on a medical one. _This _I might be able to help you with, but I can't do that if you won't let me. I'm not asking you to let me in completely. What I _am _asking is that you at least consider that what I'm saying might be the truth."

"And say I come to the conclusion that you're right," I said. "What the hell do you propose we do about it? It's not like I can go to a fuckin' therapist!"

"We'd have to get a little creative," he answered. "But we would find a way, and once we do, you might be able to keep the God of War completely in your control. Maybe you wouldn't be miserable anymore. Maybe you could even be happy. Isn't that something you want for yourself?"

My lips twisted bitterly, and I let out an ironic chuckle. "There's no question I want control. As for the happiness, I don't know."

Carlisle frowned, but before he could ask why, I explained. "I don't know if I could ever figure out how to be or if I'm even capable of it after everything. What I want has never really mattered—not when it comes to that."

"We could change that," he murmured. "But you have to _want _to change it."

"Is this the part where you preach about skipping through a field full of daisies and tell me everything will turn into puppies and rainbows?" I asked sarcastically.

"No," Carlisle responded. "If you decide you want it and that you're willing to try, it would be hard and painful, but it would be worth it, Jasper."

"Maybe."

Defeat again flitted into his emotions, and I sighed, my anger losing some of its steam. "Look, Carlisle, I mean it when I say I don't know if I'm capable of bein' happy, but I'm okay with that. Do you know why that is?"

"Why?"

"Because I know how to laugh now. I know how to joke and smile. I have people that love me, and I've learned how to love them back. I struggle with control sometimes, but I'm not a wild animal. I haven't killed a human in nearly 51 years. My bloodlust no longer controls me. I control _it_. Bein' a soldier is still the only thing that makes sense to me most of the time, but I'm not where I was 112 years ago," I explained. "I may not know what happiness that's mine feels like, but sometimes, though it's not as often as I would like, I know peace. Sometimes, just the same as I don't know peace as often as I would like, I know contentedness. I'm not sure what else I can ask for ... so I'm okay with that."

_Wow, _the Major scoffed, _that is _so _touching!_

_Shut it, dick! _I snapped. _You like where we are now, and you can't lie to me about that. You _are _me, after all. _My inner tone was smug.

_So you're right, _he grumbled crossly. _Don't get all cocky about it._

Carlisle just nodded. "Alright, Jasper. I just want more for you."

"I know," I said. "And I love you for that. I'll think about the things you said."

"Thank you," he said gratefully.

I nodded in return and hauled myself up from the chair. "I'll see you at home."

"Yeah," he affirmed. His expression and emotions were contemplative, but I didn't bother trying to figure them out. I had enough of my own shit to contemplate.

oOo

_Tuesday, November 2nd, 2080_

BPOV

Jasper Whitlock was a contradiction. I honestly had no clue what to make of him anymore. Now I had more things to add to my list of stuff that had me doubting whether or not he was capable of turning me in.

For the past two days he'd been dutifully helping his mother restore that antique roll top desk and treating her with such kindness, love and respect. It was a side to him I'd never seen, and I kind of liked it. I liked it when he was angry too. I had only been afraid of him that one time. Now whatever he threw at me didn't phase me, and it never would, including the other night, when he'd brought me to my knees right along with him. I had known going after him like that was a risky move, but I'd just been so damn angry over the attack on Riley and how affected I was by seeing Jasper dressed up as a fireman. Emmett's intentions had all been in the name of fun—I couldn't take my fury out on him even though he was responsible and very proud of himself for it; the look on Jasper's face wasn't the same as Emmett's. It was arrogant and smug, and I'd wanted to wipe that expression off and get under his skin the way he'd gotten underneath mine. That was what made things so different between us now because I hadn't seen him so furious with me since the alley in Louisville, and I still wasn't afraid. Even the one time I was, though I'd been pissed about it, I'd still admired and respected him on some level. There was just something so majestic about him when he was full of that fire—that beauty was just as present on Halloween as it was all those months ago, and my admiration over that had only increased since, which was why I hadn't thrown a shit fit when my plan to make him kneel before me backfired. I kind of loved how unyielding he could be and that he had the balls to hand me my ass whenever I attempted to hand him his. But gentle, kind Jasper was very attractive too.

_He is not _allowed _to be any more attractive, Bella! _

That wasn't what stood out to me most though. He had comforted me. I had been doing a really shit job of concealing my emotions lately, particularly in regard to the topic of our history project. Mr. Sumner had caught me completely off guard with that, and Jasper noticed. He'd put up with my attitude and insults, hadn't fired any of his own back at me, and then he'd tried to make me feel better. He _had _made me feel better, and he'd helped me focus. He'd brought me enough peace on the matter, which was very little considering, so we could bang out a decent amount of work before I had to head in for my shift the first day we worked on our project.

That, in and of itself, was amazing. When he'd put his hand over mine, it was the first time we'd touched since our shoulders brushed the day I'd come to negotiate my moving in. There had been a zap then, like an electric shock, but it wasn't the same as in Louisville. I had wondered on several occasions if it would be if I touched him deliberately but had never considered actually testing it. As it turned out, Jasper's touch did still light me on fire.

The comfort he brought me wasn't the end of it though. When I returned home from work late that night there was a surprise waiting for me on my bedside table. There was a little cake, bigger than a cupcake but still meant only for one, with a candle jutting out of the frosting at its center, a single pink tulip, and a stuffed horse along with a note scrawled neatly on a sheet of monogrammed paper with the initials JMW.

_Bella,_

_I know it was awhile ago, but I wanted you to know I didn't forget. It may not be a milestone birthday, but a girl only turns seventeen once, and I wanted to get you a little something to celebrate that. I hope your birthday was special and that you had someone around to make you smile. _

_Make a wish,_

_Jasper_

It was a simple gift. The cake was red velvet and amazing. The flower was beautiful, now sitting on my bedside table in a vase I'd secretly filched from a cabinet in the dining room—being light on my feet and a damn good cat burglar came in handy sometimes. Jasper had remembered from our time in Louisville that I liked horses. The stuffed horse even looked like Wildfire, though there was no way he could've known about him.

He'd remembered my _birthday_. I had told him about it in passing two months ago, and he'd remembered.

I'd teared up when I read that note, clutching the stuffed horse that smelled like him tightly to my chest as I lit and blew out the candle. It was only the second birthday gift I'd ever received and the whole thing was so damn sweet. I _liked _sweet Jasper. The problem was I seemed to like all the sides of Jasper I encountered, even the less than kosher ones, and that was dangerous, so, so fucking dangerous, especially since I was still trying to figure out if he had turned me in. That was the one Jasper I could not like, if that Jasper even existed.

_Would a guy who bought you a birthday present and has really only been an ass to you when you started it do something like that Bella? _

I just didn't know, and I didn't know how to ask without saying too much. Jasper had this uncanny ability to draw things out of me that I had no intention of discussing when I wasn't fighting with him. That was what had gotten me in trouble with him in the alley before, and I could not talk about any of it: not the things that happened after he left, not my past or where I came from. I already had that urge too damn often. Whether or not he was responsible for my shit-tastic Louisville adventures, if he had no idea at all and I brought it up, there was still someone in this house who was connected to them. I still didn't know Jasper, and if he went to his father with the information I revealed ...

Dr. Cullen was a man of his word, and he would stick to the deal we'd made. However, if he were to be given information about that time, he could potentially justify using that knowledge as a loophole in our deal. He had his suspicions about the events of that night, and he was clever enough to put the pieces together if he was given enough of them. For some reason, he cared and wanted to protect and help me, and our paths had crossed then. He could say it wasn't prying on those grounds alone, and I just couldn't take the risk. As good as these people had been to me, no matter how eternally grateful I would always be to them, I still couldn't trust them. I couldn't trust anyone. I couldn't ask Jasper about this outright, and I couldn't resort to my usual methods without violating my end of the deal. I would have to continue waiting and watching, doing things the old-fashioned _human _way, until I came to a solid conclusion about Jasper Whitlock on my own.

Luckily for me, our history project gave me the perfect opportunity to do just that. I found it pretty damn hilarious that what I had at first been so angry about, bothered by and absolutely dreading was something I now looked forward to.

It was just after school, and Jasper and I were working on the media part of our project until I had to head to work at six. I would do the rest of my homework when I got home from my four hour shift as I continued to wait for news on Jane's identity. My computer was fast, but it still had a shit ton of records to go through, and that took time despite its speed. I was getting antsy and impatient with all the waiting though. It was grating, and I needed so badly to solve Jane's murder. It was weighing heavily on my conscience, the guilt twisting me up into knots that left me feeling sick almost all the time. Now that I was settled here in Forks for the most part, I'd counted on my anger with Jasper to keep me from dwelling on it as much, but now that I was questioning his part in things, I couldn't rely on that. It was eating at me so much I felt like I was going crazy, and I didn't have an outlet for my frenetic energy. I wanted to go running or swimming or _something _to relieve the tension but still wasn't comfortable enough to let loose here. Of course, thinking about relieving tension in Jasper's presence always invited images into my brain that only made that tension worse. I hated that he still affected me so damn much after everything even if I _was _doubting his involvement. That didn't matter though. My craziness and the discomfort I felt over my attraction to him wasn't helping along the progress on our project, so I pushed it into a room in my head—my way of compartmentalizing—and broke the lock on the door to that room so I could focus.

When I brought myself back to the task at hand, I finally noticed the tingle of Jasper's eyes as he watched me from his seat across the table. My body temperature skyrocketed at the feel of it, but I regained control quickly. I moved my gaze to his, cocking an eyebrow at him in question.

He raised his own eyebrow. "You back with me, sugar?"

I scowled. I still hated it when he called me that. "I wasn't aware I left."

"Oh, you were definitely some place else," he remarked with a confidence that irritated the shit out of me. He tried to hide his grin at the expression that clearly matched what I was feeling, and I only grew more agitated. I was always in such tight control of myself, but he fucked with that. All the Cullens did, and I did not fucking like it. "You ready to get to work or are you headed back to La La Land?"

My scowl deepened. "You are an insufferable smart ass, Jasper Whitlock."

He grinned boyishly at me and despite my continued irritation my stomach flipped. "So I've been told."

"I hate you," I growled. It was becoming harder and harder to say it with any conviction, and that pissed me off.

An emotion I couldn't place flashed across his perfect face but was gone in an instant. He waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. I hate you too. Now can we get started? I have other things to do."

He was annoyed now. That was good. Maybe I could keep picking at him, riling him up, so we could argue some more. I rather enjoyed that, and it would put off having to look at pictures of the attacks I had already seen and had no interest in seeing again. They represented an awful, heartbreaking time for our country, but they represented something similar yet entirely different for me. Having that shoved in my face was not my idea of fun. I much preferred the prospect of arguing with him, but he was right. The harder I fought this, the more this project would drag out, making me miserable for that much longer. I had to suck it up. I was Soldier Omega, born to take on things infinitely more difficult and horrifying than a high school history project, but that was the problem.

"Ditto," I countered half-heartedly. I suddenly wanted to tell him he wasn't the reason I was so uneasy, but I couldn't find the words.

Jasper got up and pushed a chair next to mine, flopped onto it and dragged his laptop across the table so it was in front of us. As he booted it up, he cast an unfathomable sideways glance at me, and his close proximity had that weird energy buzzing between us again. As always, I didn't understand either one of those things, but it stirred something in me. I couldn't name what it was, but the urge I was struggling with now was whether or not to thank him for my birthday gift. I didn't know if he was expecting one. He hadn't mentioned the gift at all, but I _wanted _to thank him. It was another thing I didn't know how to do. The words were simple enough, but they seemed inadequate. How did you thank a person for a gift that seemed so simple to anyone else but held so much meaning for you? I wondered what he would do if I kissed him. How that could possibly count as a thank you, I didn't know, but when words failed, a person was only left with actions. A kiss didn't have to mean anything more than thank you.

_Just tell him 'thank you' and get that idea the fuck out of your head!_

Before I could make a decision about it, Jasper had an academic website devoted to our topic pulled up. For the next half hour, we were inundated with images all related to the attacks with Jasper tagging pictures he thought we could use. He'd asked my opinion at first, but when he had very little success at getting me to share my input, he eventually gave up.

I was typically so good at separating myself from things, but I was having so much trouble with this. It was the first time in five years I'd had to devote any serious time to this subject and its connotations in regard to me, and I just wasn't dealing with it well. Memories from different rooms in my head started to rattle at their doors, and I squeezed my eyes shut. I wouldn't let this happen again. I refused to have an episode now.

When Jasper hit play on a video from The History Channel's website, the live action busted those doors open, flooding my brain with the memories I'd been fighting to keep at bay. The room started to spin, my stomach twisting into knots that had nothing to do with Jane for once, and I began to hear far off screams. I took a deep breath, trying not to squeeze my eyes shut again and bring more attention to myself, but Jasper was one of the most observant people I'd ever met. He'd probably notice the change in me whether my eyes were open or closed. I did my best to act normal regardless.

Deep breathing didn't help. I needed to get out of this room, but I was afraid it was too late for that. The screams were still far off, so I didn't think they were coming from me in the present yet, but they were getting louder, and my head was still filling with things from my past I didn't want to relive. My vision was turning hazy around the edges, and I was gripping the edge of the table so tightly my knuckles were white. If I tightened my hold any more I would crack the wood.

I was so lost in what I was seeing, it surprised me when Jasper's large hand closed over mine. It seemed to me as though I jumped a mile high at his touch, and my unfocused gaze snapped to his.

"Bella?" Jasper questioned.

"Hmm?" I murmured, distracted, but he was slowly pulling me to the present.

His eyes remained locked on mine, but I didn't know for how long. The gold of them was mesmerizing, and I was losing myself in them. For the first time that was a good thing, so I concentrated on letting the rest of the world fall away until it was just me and him. We weren't alone though. My memories were still swirling around in my head, and the screams hadn't dissipated, but the longer I stayed lost in his eyes, the more those things slowed and quieted. It was getting easier to breathe as well. Just as he had been the day I'd come home from buying my car, he was the tether keeping me grounded. I still didn't know why, and I still didn't like it, but that didn't matter. When he tried to pull his hand away, I grabbed it and held on.

His eyes dropped to our joined hands. "Do you want to take a break?"

I didn't know what the expression on my face was as I answered, "Yeah, my brain is kind of fried."

I sucked in a shaky breath and steeled myself to let go of him. I was sure I was creeping him out clutching onto him the way I was, but I was reluctant to throw away the only thing that appeared to be keeping me from losing my shit. I didn't want to do that here. I didn't want to do it anywhere. He already hated me, so maybe it didn't matter so much if he thought I was a clingy freak. The word "freak" echoed in my head, and despite the potential consequences, I let go of him anyway. I didn't want him to think I was a freak.

I propped my elbows on the table and rested my head in my palms, digging my fingers roughly into my hair and tugging painfully. I couldn't deal with my confusion and conflict over Jasper and all my other shit at the same time. Usually I would have been able to but not now. Cool fingers ran from my knuckles to my fingertips and gently coaxed them away from my scalp, stopping me from pulling my hair out at the roots. I sighed with relief but not for the respite from the abuse I'd been inflicting. Those fingers wrapped around mine again.

"Come on," he said, hauling me to my feet and leading me toward the garage.

Ordinarily I would have let him lead me there. Who was I kidding? I probably would have junk punched him for taking charge of me like that. No matter what I usually would have done, I couldn't be in such a confined space, and I was too dizzy for anything involving a motorcycle. Instead, I shifted toward the stairs. He didn't argue with me, he didn't say _anything_, just allowed me to guide him to where I needed to go.

I pushed open the door to my room, towed him inside, shut it behind me and dragged him over to my bed. Then I shoved him down on it, kicked off my boots and climbed in next to him. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling and reached for his hand again. I expected Jasper to finally protest that, but he didn't say a word. I hoped that was how it stayed.

I didn't remember falling asleep, but I startled awake, my eyes popping open as I came into awareness. I didn't bolt upright which I ordinarily would have done. I did, however, notice I was thoroughly wrapped around Jasper. My legs were tangled with his, my head snuggled into the crook of his neck, the scent of him assaulting my nose as it pressed against his skin. One arm had wormed its way underneath his back, and my hand was now resting on his shoulder blade, the defined muscle prominent through his thin T-shirt. The other was wound around his neck and buried in his hair. One of Jasper's arms was wrapped around my upper back with his hand resting on my shoulder, while the other rested casually on the small of my back like this was something we did all the time. My whole body was buzzing from the contact.

I moved out of his arms quickly and searched his face as I attempted to figure out how I'd ended up in that position. He peered at me, scrutinizing my face as I was his. He didn't appear to be angry with me for it, but he didn't seem amused by it either. That was good I supposed, but I couldn't read the emotion in his expression. That was nothing new.

"How did we end up like that?" I'd anticipated that my voice would come out sharp, but it came out soft and curious instead.

Jasper looked as though he'd been bracing himself for me to snap at him, but his features twisted into something else when I didn't. Was that relief I saw?

"You just sort of ... shifted after you fell asleep," he responded, his tone quiet and filled with more emotion I couldn't place.

"Oh," I said dumbly, but I wasn't irritated by my inability to come up with more than one word as a response, strangely enough. "Why didn't you wake me?"

I was confused.

Jasper scooted backwards and propped himself against my headboard, shrugging. "You seemed like you needed it."

"Oh," was my second brilliant monosyllabic response. It suddenly occurred to me that my memories were firmly locked away again, and I hadn't had any nightmares ... that I could remember. "How long was I out?"

"A little over an hour," he said. "You won't be late for work if you're worried about that."

That hadn't even crossed my mind, and it should have. I was grateful he'd reminded me. I got up from the bed and stretched leisurely, feeling better than I had in awhile. Jasper's eyes were still on me, but I ignored that as I made my way toward the en suite bathroom. I wanted to take a quick shower before I headed to work, and I had the time to. My muscles were tense from my near episode, and I needed the hot water to soothe them. I hoped it would.

As I passed by him, he took hold of my arm with a delicate but contrastingly firm touch and turned me to face him. My instinctual reaction would generally have been to go on the defensive and attack him without thought. I didn't, and I wondered why. For some odd reason, I knew if it was anyone else, I would have. I stared at him inquisitively.

"I can do that part of the project," he said softly. "If you want."

My eyebrows shot up into my hairline. "By yourself?"

He nodded, a tentative expression on his face.

"Why?"

"You're busy catching up in your other classes and keeping up with the current curriculum," he answered. "Plus, you've got your job."

I opened my mouth to protest, but he stopped me with more than just his words—his hand on my arm tightened ever so slightly, sending little shocks through my body, and his eyes grew more intense, almost ... desperate. "I know you're capable of juggling all of it, Bella, but you've done the majority of the work on the paper and the oral presentation. Your outlines are solid, cognizant, and very impressive. You've got great insight, and you're clear and concise. Like you said, you know this shit, and we brainstormed the concept for the media project together. That's really the most important thing. Will you please let me do this?"

I found myself nodding before I registered what I was doing.

A flash of relief flitted across his features. "Thank you."

I nodded again.

"I'll just go now," he said awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. It was cute, and I watched as he walked passed me.

Before he disappeared through my doorway I darted after him. I was the one who grabbed his arm this time, my touch gentle. He turned around, and before I could talk myself out of it, I pressed my lips to his cheek. I lingered longer than was probably appropriate and definitely not necessary, but I was grateful to him. He had no idea what he had saved me from, was still saving me from, and I didn't know how to verbalize that any more than I did a "thank you" for my birthday gift. I hoped this was enough.

When I pulled away, for once I could tell what he was thinking, at least in part. He was shocked and not just a little, but he didn't comment. I was grateful for that too because if he had, I didn't know what I would have done with myself. Things would have gotten awkward if he'd said anything, and my lips were still tingling from the contact with his skin. I was too busy wondering if his lips felt the same as his cheek—slightly rough from all the scars that marred his skin but still soft—to have given him a response that was remotely coherent.

He turned around and disappeared from my view.

I didn't know why he was doing this, but there was one thing I did know. Jasper didn't turn me in. I think I'd always known it, but I'd needed to blame someone, and he was the easiest target.

I would talk to him about this later. Not tonight but soon. I had to apologize for the way I had treated him. He hadn't deserved it, and it bothered me that he might think all there was to me was a cold, snarky bitch. I wanted to prove to him that that wasn't true. I knew I would have to work for it, but I was willing to do what had to be done to atone for my behavior. I was doing a lot of that these days.

I had thought in the alley that he was worth it. I would prove that to him too.

oOo

I was preparing to head home from work when my cell phone beeped in my purse, signaling that I'd received a text message. Each Cullen had a specific notification noise and ringtone so I wouldn't be caught by surprise when I answered it and could prepare myself for whatever might come from the other end of the line and what I might say in return. This notification didn't belong to any of them.

That only meant one thing—my computer search was over. When I got home I would either discover who Jane Doe was or I would have to devise another way to find out.

oOo

**A/N:** There we finally have it, folks! Bella has figured out Jasper didn't turn her in. Now the question becomes, what is she going to do about it? Do you think she'll finally discover who Jane Doe is?

Phew! Opening up to Carlisle was tough! But it was necessary, and I'm quite proud of Jasper for doing it. PTSD is something that affects a lot of people, soldiers in particular. It's serious and it isn't unrealistic that it might be contributing to his struggles. He was at war for a century. There are bound to be scars both physical and emotional from that, though I have already made it pretty damn obvious he's got them.

Does anyone think the Major knows something Jasper doesn't? I do. ;)

If you want to see pictures of what Jasper got Bella for her birthday, check out my photobucket album for Longing. The link is in my profile. :)

Until next time! Take care. :)


	39. Chapter 30 Part 2

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm only borrowing her characters for a little while. The plot and original characters of Longing do belong to me, however. Jasper as the God of War and Peter "just knowing shit" are ideas that belong to Idreamofeddy.

My love to my beta and wonderful friend Laurie Whitlock, to my beloved sister Shelljayz, who is also my beta, prereader and best friend, and to my friend juliangelus for prereading. Many thanks ladies! :)

I so appreciate each and every one of you who have read, followed, favorited and reviewed Longing. :) If I didn't respond to your review, I apologize. My week was rough.

**Please note:** I never intended to write Jasper's POV of what happened between him and Bella from the first part of chapter 30. However, since almost all of my reviewers would like to know what was going through his head at the time, I decided to go ahead and write it as an outtake. I am still working on it, but I should have it finished in time to post next week. Note the word "should." I can't make any guarantees, but I will try my best. :)

oOo

_Tuesday, November 2nd, 2080_

BPOV

As I stared at the picture of the beautiful woman on the screen before me, I felt a tear slip down my cheek. "Hello Layla, it's nice to meet you."

Jane Doe's name was Layla Davidson. She was twenty-eight and originally from Nampa, Idaho. She had blonde hair, blue eyes and a mother named Kathleen. She also had a record. She'd been arrested three times for possession. The first was as a minor, the second when she was twenty-one and the third when she was twenty-five. It had happened after an overdose which resulted in a three month stint in jail and Child Protective Services taking her child away. Her drug of choice was heroin.

I abandoned the idea of doing any of my homework. I finally knew who Jane was and finding out more about her was infinitely more important than solving fifteen Calculus equations, reading two chapters of _Candide_, which was a strange book that wasn't worth my time. It was more important than translating complex paragraphs from English to Spanish, applying Newton's Laws to everyday life or theorizing on the causes of the Revolutionary War. Those things weren't important in the least. I didn't give a fuck about high school. Jane was my priority. She took unequivocal precedence.

Once I knew everything there was to know about her, I could find her killer. She would finally have peace and justice for her murder. I could contact her mother and her daughter and give them closure. I could lay all this to rest.

oOo

_Three days later …_

The first time Layla Davidson had gone to rehab and taken it seriously was when she was twenty-two. According to the digital notes her therapist had made, her mother had kicked her out of the house at twenty. Kathleen had supported her through her drug problems since she was fifteen, spending every last dime of her husband's life insurance policy and dipping into her 401k to pay for rehab and therapy Layla either skipped out on or scoffed at. She loved her daughter but had been worn down and devastated by all the lies, Layla stealing and pawning her things for money to feed her habit and the hurtful words her daughter hurled at her whenever she tried to help. Not knowing what else to do, Kathleen had kicked her out with the hope that cutting Layla off would wake her up and give her the drive to seek sobriety. It didn't.

Layla ended up in Louisville; two years later, she met a man named Brandon McCormick, and they fell in love. He'd been supportive and encouraging, helping her to finally realize she was tired of life as a drug addict living for her next fix and that her mother loved her and had only ever tried her best to help her. Layla discovered she finally wanted to live a life that wasn't ruled by her need for heroin.

Though she loved Brandon, she was changing for herself. She went through the program, following their guidelines meticulously, which meant cutting off contact with him for three months, since a staple of those guidelines was to avoid relationships at first.

Brandon had waited for her. I could only assume this since he was listed as the father on the birth certificate of the daughter she'd given birth to fifteen months later, just forty-one days after her twenty-fourth birthday.

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed, staring at my monitor in disbelief. I could not believe what I was seeing. Brandon and Layla's daughter was named Shiri McCormick, a beautiful little white blonde-haired girl with wide, beseeching blue eyes … and who now bore the scars, both physical and psychological, of domestic abuse, courtesy of Rafe Jones.

When Shiri was just eleven months old, Brandon was killed in a convenience store robbery, taking a bullet in place of the clerk he'd pushed out of the way as the gun was fired. In her devastation, Layla entered a downward spiral, relapsing and inconsistently caring for her daughter. Six months later, she overdosed and lost custody of Shiri. Shiri eventually ended up with Rafe and Lydia Jones as foster parents. For Layla, it was a wake up call.

Over the next two and a half years, Layla again went to rehab, religiously attended Narcotics Anonymous meetings and cleaned herself up. She wanted her daughter back. She got a stable job with the help of the rehab facility and recommitted to sobriety with an even greater zeal than she had previously. After she'd held her job down for a year, her therapist told her she was ready to be a mother again—something Layla had already known. Just before she died, she had started the process of filing for custody of Shiri, and the judge presiding over her case was on the verge of granting it to her when she disappeared. They had no idea she'd been murdered, so Shiri remained with the Jones' … paving the way for our paths to cross and my eventual trip to the morgue.

After the careful study of Layla's financials and phone records, reviewing the case file, the notes of the chief investigators and the physical evidence and looking into every person whose number appeared on those records, I had narrowed the suspects down to one most likely candidate with the rest of the other possible perpetrators listed in statistical numerical order.

Derek Henry was a thirty-five year old accountant from Bisbe, Arizona. He had lived in ten different cities in the last thirteen years. He had no criminal record, not even a parking or speeding ticket, and stellar performance reviews from his bosses and coworkers at every job he'd held over the last sixteen years. His high school and college GPA was a solid 4.0 from the day he'd started ninth grade until the day he'd earned his business and accounting degrees from Yale. He lived a quiet and uneventful life, appearing as vanilla and Joe Normal as Rafe Jones on the surface.

The problem with Derek Henry was that in five of the ten cities he'd lived in in the last decade, a woman he'd had some connection with had disappeared, only to be found dead days or weeks later with their fingertips removed at the first knuckle. Layla was the sixth. He never made it onto the police's list of suspects, but Derek Henry always moved within two weeks of each woman's disappearance, always for a better job somewhere else. He always began looking months before each woman died, which reeked of premeditation. He always got the job he wanted in the city he set his sights on because he was so damn good at what he did and which gave him a valid reason to take off. He covered all his bases. My gut was screaming that working with numbers wasn't the only thing he was brilliant at.

Derek Henry was Layla's NA sponsor, but there was no proof he'd ever been an addict: no hospital records of overdoses, no record he'd been to rehab or therapy and his squeaky clean record of course meant no arrests for possession, but his deception made sense if he was the culprit. Layla had lived a high-risk lifestyle for a decade of her life, and that made her a low-risk target—easy pickings. All the other women, with the exception of his first potential victim, had lived similar lifestyles.

According to the notes of the therapist Layla was seeing before she died, she and Derek had become fast friends, and Layla often admitted he was her lifeline as she got herself clean for the second time. She talked about all the time they spent together and their financials corroborated it, coffee and dinner dates and whatnot showing up on both of their bank statements. The therapist noted that they'd developed an unhealthy codependency. Layla never mentioned any inappropriate behavior on Derek's part, never taking her therapist seriously when she mentioned her concerns.

True to his pattern, Derek had packed up and moved from Louisville to Salt Lake City, Utah, taking a job as an accountant at a prestigious law firm five days after Layla disappeared.

My research suggested he was again posing as a former addict and that he'd already selected his next victim. Her name was Sheila Rogers, and she was another woman who'd recently been discharged from a rehab facility. Derek was upping the ante, and I couldn't be sure he would follow the pattern he'd established in the past. The fact that he had already targeted his next victim was an indicator that he was no longer satisfied with the time frame of that pattern.

Though I'd been working on this practically nonstop for three days, even continuing my research during school and work when I could get away with it, I couldn't discount the possibility that I was wrong. I just didn't believe I was. If I _was_ right, I had to get my hands on concrete proof and put a stop to this before he killed another woman. I was going to Salt Lake City to hopefully obtain the proof that would castrate his ass.

I had just gotten home from school and was upstairs tossing a couple changes of clothes, my favorite weapons, carefully wrapped in protective cloths, and some tools of the cat burglary trade into a large, sturdy backpack I'd bought specifically for this purpose, knowing I would need it when I met my goal. Once I was done with that, I made my way to the kitchen and started loading the pack with granola bars and other various snack foods, bottles of water and other things for the trip.

"Going somewhere?" Rosalie asked as she entered the kitchen with Emmett, folding her arms across her chest. As always, her tone was hostile.

"Yep," I answered as I zipped my backpack.

"Where are you going?" Emmett asked. He looked nervous and worried.

"On a road trip," I said as I shouldered my bag and turned to face them fully.

"That doesn't answer his question, sugar," Charlotte said, joining us with Peter at her side.

"I'm going to do the world a service," I responded vaguely.

"You're real big on the mystery aren't you, darlin'?" Peter observed.

"A girl can't go tellin' all her secrets," I quipped, recalling Jasper's words from what seemed like forever ago and mimicking his accent. "It makes her less attractive or some shit like that."

Peter grinned at me, and I returned it. Charlotte's lips curled up as well, though for her, it seemed like it was against her will.

"What about work and school?" Emmett asked, drawing my attention back to him. He was fidgeting. I'd never seen him fidget before.

"I made arrangements with Laurie for the next few days off," I replied. She'd hired one other waitress, Leah Clearwater from the Quileute Reservation, since she had offered me a job, and Gale had recovered enough from her chemo to return to work, so she wouldn't be left high and dry in my absence. I suddenly realized what Emmett was nervous about and decided to reassure him without being obvious about it. "I start up shifts again next Thursday. As for school, I'm a smart girl. I'll catch up."

"I'll help," he said.

This made me feel all warm and tingly, so when he grinned at me, I grinned back. "Do you mind telling Carlisle and Esme that I'm taking off? I would do it myself, but I've really got to hit the road."

I was glad Dr. and Mrs. Cullen weren't there. If they tried to say anything against me taking off on this road trip, all hell would break loose. I liked them. I didn't want to have to tear them new assholes, and I wouldn't be able to stop myself from doing it. I had been waiting too long to finish this, I was too fucking close to resolving it and I'd been too torn up over it to have patience or understanding for any protests they might make or concern they might show.

"Yeah, I can do that," Emmett assured me.

Just then, Edward, Alice and Jasper entered the kitchen and joined the party.

Edward's brows furrowed as he took in my backpack. "Are you headed to the library or something?"

"No," Rosalie answered for me. "Bella's going on a road trip."

"Where to?" Alice asked with her usual enthusiasm.

"To do the world a service," Rosalie said flippantly. "Whatever the fuck that means."

I felt Jasper's eyes on me but didn't look at him. We hadn't spoken since the day I'd fallen asleep on him, and I was relieved by that. I was a bit embarrassed by the whole situation, still grateful, but having a hard time coming to grips with my behavior. He seemed content to let me be, and I was yet more grateful since I was feeling so fucking awkward about it. Still, it was hard not to move my gaze to his.

Instead, I moved forward and threw my arms around Rosalie. I planted a big, sloppy kiss on her cheek, pulling away from her before she could pry my arms off and shove me out of her personal space.

"Oh, Rose," I cried dramatically. "I'll miss you too!" Oddly enough, I found that was true.

She gave me a dirty look, and I waved saucily at her. Impulsively, I hugged Emmett, Alice, Edward, Peter and Charlotte goodbye. When I came to Jasper, I halted awkwardly in front of him. He was too close to me for comfort, so I took a step back.

"See ya, Whitlock," I said with a wry smile. He just watched me, not uttering a word.

That made things more awkward, so I turned on my heel and took off to the garage, climbed in my car and pulled away from the place that had become almost like a home in the last couple weeks.

I had to make a pit stop at the storage unit I'd rented in Port Angeles to house the hard copies of Jane's case file and the physical evidence from the crime scene before I left the area and headed to Utah.

oOo

_Saturday, November 7th, 2080 ... Salt Lake City, Utah ... 4:00 am …_

I'd made the drive from Forks to Salt Lake City in ten hours. I could have gotten there much faster, but I'd taken my time for many reasons. Driving recklessly invited unnecessary and very unwanted attention from all the wrong people. To alleviate that worry, I'd driven the speed limit. I'd also taken the precaution of switching out my plates, storing the ones logged on the car insurance and owner's paperwork which were in Dr. Cullen's name in a bike locker in Portland's Rose Quarter Transit Station. I'd disposed of the plates I'd used while driving through Oregon when I made it over the Nevada state line and repeated that process when I'd passed over into Utah to cover all my bases. Taking those ten hours also gave me more time to prepare and center myself for what needed to be done.

I parked in an all-night parking garage in downtown Salt Lake City and made the rest of my way on foot. I couldn't risk anyone being able to recognize my car.

I was now lurking outside Derek Henry's condo, dressed all in black as I observed the place, casing it for the best way in. I was going to search his home for any evidence he might have hidden there after I'd tailed him for a couple days. Studying digital footprints only got a person so far. I needed to get an idea of who this guy was before I went so far as to violate his personal space. That was always necessary in an operation like this.

According to my thermal vision, Derek was home, and my hearing indicated he was asleep. That was good. He was already making my surveillance that much easier.

Derek Henry left his house for work at precisely 7:30 am, suit impeccable, not a hair out of place and whistling cheerily. I wanted to punch him. His firm was working a big case that hinged on understanding money trails, cooked books and all sorts of other crooked shit that required a person who understood numbers. He'd been asked to serve as a consultant by the firm's senior partner specializing in financial and white collar cases. The guy was perfectly capable of doing it himself, but they wanted all their T's crossed and I's dotted because this was a case they couldn't lose, and having Derek Henry to corroborate all of his work ensured that. It required working around the clock, which included a Saturday.

I tailed him there, found a rooftop building with a perfect view for surveillance and watched him all day, which was pretty easy considering most of the work on the case was being done in a conference room with a wall that was nothing but window. I paid close attention to his mannerisms and body language, how he interacted with his co-workers, listened to how he spoke to people. I even took note of how the guy turned the pages of the invoices he was scrutinizing for inconsistencies, how he held his pen and the way he ate the food that was ordered in for lunch.

The guy was smooth. He was well-spoken and had this way of patronizing everyone he spoke to so subtly hardly any of them picked up on it. He was clean cut, precise and had to have everything in order, from the way his pencils and legal pad were arranged to where he placed his coffee mug in relation to his laptop, but it wasn't in an OCD sort of way. It was more of a control freak, alpha male thing that suggested there wasn't anything in his life, mundane, material or social, that he hadn't made his bitch. He was well-liked despite his underhanded insults, his charm undeniable. Whether he was my guy or not, he had everyone in his life completely fooled by his façade as a mild-mannered accountant and wrapped around his little finger by his dynamic personality. Even if he wasn't a sadistic serial killer, I could very plainly see that he was one icy son of a bitch.

When he left work, I followed him home, where he showered, changed clothes and headed out to the bad part of town. He was going to an NA meeting, that much I knew for sure.

Luckily for me, the building where the NA meeting was being held had a skylight, so I nimbly leaped onto the roof and crouched next to it, my view of the room just as perfect as the one I'd had to his office building, if from a different angle.

During the course of the meeting, Derek Henry once again proved what a smooth bastard he was. As he spoke to the group of recovering addicts, he expertly wove a tale of a heart-wrenching battle with cocaine as a result of his inability to cope with the death of his parents at the hands of a drunk driver when he was only fifteen and all the traumatic foster homes he'd been placed in afterward. Each member of the group was unquestionably enthralled with him, and Sheila Rogers was no exception.

She was raven-haired with grey eyes, a petite build and a kind but impressionable smile. Her eyes held a nakedly eager desperation. Her addiction to methamphetamines had driven everyone she loved away from her, much as Layla Davidson's addiction to heroin had. She was starving for attention and someone to believe in her, and Derek was playing on that beautifully. She was easy pickings just as all his other victims had been and was falling into his trap so easily it broke my heart … presuming I was right.

After the meeting, they got a cup of coffee and talked for hours, Sheila pouring out her heart and soul to him and totally buying into the bullshit stories he was feeding her. I knew so much about him and his life, and there was not a grain of truth to any of them. Whether he was guilty of killing Layla and those other women or not, this guy needed to be stopped. He was fucking with a very vulnerable woman, and it wasn't right. I just wasn't sure how I would go about doing that if he wasn't a murderer, but I would figure it out.

The more I watched Derek Henry, the more convinced I was that I _was_ right though. My instincts were screaming that he was guilty, and I was chomping at the bit to search his condo. I would have to wait to do it until he headed to work the next morning, so it was a good damn thing I was so fucking patient.

I followed him home, disappeared into the shadows at the back of his house and scaled the wall until I reached the roof. Derek's condo had a skylight just like the NA meeting place, only his had a nook of sorts that would keep me hidden from anyone's view until I made my move.

oOo

_Sunday, November 8th, 2080 _

I waited two hours after Derek left for work before making my fingerprints disappear and slipping in through the skylight. His financials had provided me with the name of the security company his alarm system was powered through. After hacking said company's records and discovering which model of alarm he had, it was easy for me to deactivate it. I could have done it on the fly but having that information just made things easier, and I was all for easier.

Just like his clothing and work space, Derek Henry's condo was neat as a pin. I had the urge to vandalize the place when I saw it but kept myself in check. It only took me half an hour to find what I needed to appease my gut.

Hidden in the crawl space under the house, the entrance to which was in his closet of all places, I found two lockboxes full of evidence. Enclosed in one of the lockboxes were photo albums filled with pictures of each of the women I'd suspected were his victims, as well as newspaper clippings on their murder investigations. In the other, there was a separate, smaller box made of cedar. In it were sixty finger tips, one full set for each of his six victims. Some of them had withered away until nothing was left but bone while others appeared mummified. Taking a look at the least decomposed set, my keen vision revealed to me the distinct ridges and whorls of Layla Davidson's fingerprints. In addition to those were other trophies: locks of hair from each woman and a piece of jewelry taken from each one at the time of her death. Layla's was a white gold locket with three separate layers for pictures. There was a picture of her mother, a picture of Brandon, a very recent picture of Shiri and a picture of her, Shiri and Brandon together before he was killed.

I gently removed all the items from the lockboxes, loaded them carefully into my backpack and slipped back out the way I'd come. Then I headed back to the parking garage I'd left my car in and found a motel to check in to. I needed a place to think, plan and make the appropriate arrangements.

oOo

My hair was dyed blonde and styled straight now, my eyes the exact shade of blue as Layla's, and I'd gone to meticulous lengths to make myself look as close to her both in age and appearance as I could. I'd even gone so far as to dress similarly to the way Layla had in the picture of herself with Brandon and Shiri I'd found in her locket. Our heights hadn't been much different, and my resemblance to her was close enough that it would rattle Derek when he saw me. It wouldn't be exactly the same as seeing a ghost, but it would do its job.

I was waiting for the perfect opportunity to crash the NA meeting he was currently running. Ambushes were always a nice touch. When I heard him asking if anyone new to the group wanted to introduce themselves, I knew that was my cue. I rushed through the door of the meeting hall with all the subtlety of a rampaging herd of elephants, looking flustered and taking a seat at the back.

Derek's eyes immediately flitted to me, everyone's did, and to anyone else he appeared absolutely unaffected by my sudden entrance. I was not anyone else. I was just as well-versed in interrogating people as I was at not breaking under interrogation, and I knew the little things to look for. No matter how tightly people might be in control of their emotions, if they weren't trained, when taken by surprise or triggered by something, there was always a little slip that betrayed them. Those little slips were called microexpressions. Sometimes they were inconspicuous, sometimes they weren't. Derek Henry's fell into the former category. He was a smooth son of a bitch, but he had no training, not like I did, and he couldn't hide that shit from me.

I listened patiently as two people took their turns behind the podium at the front of the room and shared their stories. During the whole of that time, Derek was almost successful in ignoring me, but every once in awhile his eyes would stray in my direction, and it was clear in those wary glances that I had succeeded in rattling him. I, however, acted as though he didn't exist, my own glances at him through my peripheral vision going unnoticed, which only unnerved him more.

When he asked if anyone else wanted to share, I got to my feet and made my way to the podium. He was observing me keenly, trying in subtle desperation to figure out what the hell was going on.

I let my gaze travel over the group gathered before me, my eyes landing on Derek. His gaze was still intent, and I smiled at him in convincing innocence.

"Hello," I said. "My name is Layla, and I'm an addict."

"Hello, Layla," the crowd echoed.

"My addiction began when I was fifteen," I announced to my audience. "I started out like most, first experimenting with pot and getting progressively more adventurous. By the time I overdosed for the last time at twenty-five, my drug of choice was heroin …"

oOo

I chatted some with the other group members after the meeting ended. Derek did not approach me, but I had known he wouldn't, at least not in the presence of others. He would wait until he could get me alone. I indulged in twenty minutes of this, waiting until all but two others had left and thoroughly enjoying as his agitation and alarm began to snowball. I walked out with those two people, knowing Derek was trailing three and a half feet behind us, and broke off from my companions as they headed to their cars. I went the typical horror film route, choosing to head down a dimly lit alleyway the way all those idiotic heroines did before they managed to grow a brain cell and get a fucking clue.

I was ten feet in when his hand closed around my wrist. He spun me around to face him, and I continued to play up my innocent ignorance.

I gave a surprised gasp. "Oh!" I cried, bringing my hand to my chest and resting it over my heart in faux-fright at him sneaking up on me and subsequent relief at realizing he wasn't some stranger aiming to rob me. "Mr. Henry you scared me. What do you want?"

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

I had to admit I was disappointed. All my digging had led me to believe he was a criminal mastermind too intelligent and cocky to spook so easily … rattle, yes, crack, no.

I smirked. "I always love it when people ask me that in that tone," I said, my smile widening. "I almost _always_ get to follow it up with some sort of violence."

I pulled my arm back and let it spring forward, my fist colliding with his jaw. He crumpled to the ground, hitting it brutally. I didn't hit him as hard as I had Rafe Jones. I didn't want to hurt him ... yet. There would be time for that later. First, I needed him to help me out a little.

I crouched next to him and slapped him a couple times to bring him back from dreamland. "Wakey, wakey, asshole."

Derek's eyes fluttered open, glazed over by the force of my punch but becoming more aware by the second. I pulled a syringe filled with a low dose of a rapid onset benzodiazepine from the bag I'd stashed in the alley before I'd made my entrance into the meeting and plunged it into his jugular. He'd be out of it but compliant and that was necessary. I didn't want to be seen leaving this place carting around an unconscious man with six inches and sixty-seven pounds on me like a sack of potatoes.

After he was under my control, I fished his car keys out of his pocket and led him to his vehicle, him trailing behind me like an obedient, but disoriented, puppy. Once I had it unlocked, I stowed Derek in the back seat, arranging him none too gently, and zip-tied his hands to the door handle. Then I tossed my duffle in the trunk, climbed in the driver's side, engaged the engine and headed in the direction of Derek Henry's comeuppance.

oOo

_Monday, November 9th, 2080 … Four hours later …_

It was twenty-three minutes after two in the morning, and Derek and I were in a little, isolated cabin in Capitol Reef National Park, about four hours outside of Salt Lake City. I hadn't driven there even a millimeter of a mile over the speed limit. I was driving a technically stolen car with the owner drugged and zip-tied in the back seat, after all. The cabin was sparsely furnished and in good shape, with high ceilings and strong wooden rafters, the feeling it evoked distinctly rustic.

Derek Henry was currently unconscious, stripped down to his boxers and strung up by heavy duty chains to one of those wooden rafters with punishing shackles around his wrists, hanging limply but perfectly in the center of the room. I had hoisted him up so that his naked toes skimmed the wood floor by the tips of his toenails, gravity doing all the work of making him uncomfortable at the moment. That would change eventually, but for now, it was good enough.

I had decorated for the occasion. The walls of the small living room were plastered from floor to ceiling in the smiling faces of all of his victims, not the way they'd looked in their last moments, the way he surely remembered them most fondly, but in the height of happiness—when they were full of life. After I came up with my plan and ironed out the details, I'd had to sketch nearly eighty percent of the pictures myself, using crayons to mimic megapixels in order to make them look like actual snapshots from a digital camera. It had been a little tough to pull off in the time frame I'd allowed for all the arrangements, but I'd done it.

I had changed my hair from Layla's beautiful blonde to a rich light brown and my eyes from her shade of blue to hazel. My clothes and makeup had morphed from Layla's casual sexy to "girl next door" sweet. I now looked astonishingly like Amber Jenkins, Derek's first victim. She was the only one of them who didn't fit his former addict pattern and the only one I believed he'd ever truly given a shit about. Seeing her again, more than any of the others, was really going to fuck with his mind.

I allowed him to remain unconscious for another two hours before bringing him back to the land of the living. The needle on the syringe full of epinephrine slid through the skin and muscle of his chest like a hot knife through butter, piercing his heart in an instant, and with the quick swipe of my thumb to the plunger, he jolted into awareness with a hoarse yelp. I sped back across the room in a flash of movement he wouldn't register and arranged myself casually in a chair I'd placed ten feet in front of him. It would look as though not a hair on my head had moved before his eyes adjusted both to consciousness and the light.

That adjustment took thirty-nine seconds, and during the course of that time, Derek cursed and grunted and groaned in ways that would amuse me until the day I died. When his vision finally cleared enough for him to ascertain that I was there, his reaction amplified that amusement tenfold.

"Amber?" he questioned incredulously, an undercurrent of harshness to his tone that betrayed his need to be in control of all the things and people around him. He didn't like the helplessness of his position at all, his confusion, anger and wariness at the situation clear to me, but he was still trying to maintain his dominance.

_Yeah, we'll see how long _that _lasts you sick fuck, _I smirked internally. On the outside I maintained the sweet, "girl next door" facade. I sat there watching him for several long minutes, not a whisper of movement disturbing my body or a sound escaping my lips. I didn't twitch or blink or even breathe, just watched, and the longer I observed him this way, the more agitated he became.

"Amber?" he repeated, still confused. I remained silent. "Amber?" Silence. "Amber?!" More silence. "Amber, answer me!"

I cocked my head to the side but still didn't utter a word.

"You're dead!" he screeched, finally breaking, his frustration over my noncompliance and the odd nature of the situation boiling over. "You're fucking dead!"

"Am I?"

At the sound of Amber's voice, which I mimicked perfectly after having watched a home video I'd found of the two of them in one of his boxes of treasures, Derek jerked violently at the chains restraining him. He had no leverage, so all that did was make him flop around like a fish trying to wriggle off a hook. I was dying to let my internal smirk twist my features, but I kept my face innocent and inquiring.

"Yes!" he roared, a vein in his forehead throbbing furiously. His eyes had a maniacal glow to them, but they were glassy from the lingering benzodiazepine and epinephrine, and his chest was rising and falling rapidly as he continued to struggle. "I killed you! I fucking killed you!"

"Did you now?" I said, getting to my feet and making my way toward him slowly, continuing to watch him all the while.

He growled viciously, doing his damndest to get to me. My fist shot out quick as lightning, striking his cheek with a loud thwack, accompanied by the crunching of breaking bone. Derek sucked in a pained breath but otherwise made no sound.

"Funny thing about ghosts," I remarked, picking at my fingernails for a moment before returning my attention to him. "They can't punch for shit, but they _can_ creep you the fuck out."

Derek's eyes widened in rage, and he renewed his efforts to get free. "You bitch! Who the fuck are you?"

I jabbed him in the ribs this time, hearing two of them fracture. I wanted to break them, shatter them to pieces, but if I hit him as hard as I was capable, this little sit down would end too quickly. He hissed but kept himself in check.

_Impressive,_ I noted. I didn't respect the guy, he made me fucking sick, but he had a high pain tolerance.

"They are also really good at haunting people," I continued on as if he hadn't spoken, and reverted back to my normal speaking voice, "making them feel like shit for the things they've done or torturing them with memories of the good times or the things they could've done different." I went to my bag and started pulling out various instruments both sharp and blunt, loading them onto a tray atop a wheeled cart. "You, however, have the ghosts of six women 'ooga booga bogeying' in your ear, and you go about your life as though they aren't riding your ass for eternity. It totally defeats the purpose of being haunted." I picked up a wicked-looking curved knife and began twirling it between my fingers. "That is where I come in," I explained. "You can think of me as a ghost whisperer of sorts. See, since you seem to be deaf and dumb where they're concerned, _your_ ghosts are now whispering in _my_ ear, and I, in turn, am going to translate those whispers into a language you can understand."

I dug the knife into the skin of his fractured and now sunken cheek, hearing as the blade punctured the flesh and watching as the blood beaded and ran down his face. It was a light touch, and it didn't cause him much pain, but it wasn't meant to.

Derek's breathing sped up, but he didn't react the way most would have. He wasn't terrified or terribly intimidated, but that wasn't my intention. I was working up to those things, but he didn't need to know that. It was better if he believed that this was the worst of what was to come.

"I won't break," he said calmly. His gaze was serene and sure as he uttered those words. He had no doubt that he wouldn't, but he failed to see the point. That was the problem with arrogance. "You won't get me to admit anything."

"You already did, dumbass," I pointed out with a smug chuckle. Then I smiled at him. "Even if you hadn't, I don't need you to," I said. "This isn't an interrogation, Derek. I already know everything, so there isn't any need to use any of this—" I gestured to the tools— "to make you cooperate. Like I said, I'm here to make sure your ghosts are heard and understood. Once I'm certain you've gotten the message ... well, after that, I'm free to do a little whispering of my own."

My bag was still half full of a variety of instruments of torture, all of which I'd procured in Salt Lake City in record time, and I had an idea which one I would use first.

"Do you know what a picana electrica is?" I asked idly, wrapping my hand around the weapon and lifting it from the bag. It looked like a wand or a prod with a bronze tip, had an insulated handle and was connected to a control box that regulated the strength of the voltage—one flip of a dial raised it or lowered it. It used high voltage, which made the shocks ample, but low current, which made it less likely to kill the victim. That ensured prolonged periods of torture, and it was painful. I was using a car battery as a power source instead of a transformer rigged to a wall socket. I elected not to strip Derek completely naked and hang him upside down by his ankles in the manner of a classic picana session.

Derek Henry just glared at me. I went to the corner of the room where I'd stored another wheeled cart, on top of which was the control box for my weapon of choice, placed the wand on the surface and pushed it close, so he could see it more clearly. "No?" He still gave no response. I tsked him as I connected the picana to the control box with the wire. "For a serial killer, you are surprisingly ignorant, but that's okay. I have no problem enlightening you. This baby delivers shocks at 1/1000 of an amp. The low current is what makes it different from a taser. The voltage is still high, but that low current ... well, it won't kill you, but it _will_ make you wish you were dead. I know this from personal experience, though for me the settings were quite a bit higher."

He did his best to keep his expression neutral, but he was slipping. The emotions battling for dominance in his blue eyes were rage and trepidation. I was making him nervous.

I went back to the corner where I'd stashed the cart with the control box and hefted the five gallon bucket filled with ice cold water waist high and made my way back to Derek. I doused him with such force that he sputtered as he unintentionally inhaled the water that splashed against his nose and mouth. At the first touch of the picana electrica to his nipple, he flinched and let out a low moan. I forced a smile onto my face and did everything I could to make it genuine. I didn't like doing this, it made me sick, but he had to genuinely believe the tables were turned. He had to believe that the sadist predator was now in the clutches of an even greater one, so I kept the smile plastered on my face.

After an hour of exposure with few breaks, he'd screamed himself hoarse and lost control of both his bowels and bladder, and I was lounging against the wall convincingly pretending like I didn't want to hurl. I had never tortured anyone before, but I knew how—a girl picked up a few tips and tricks while on the receiving end, after all. I just never thought I would use that knowledge. I'd certainly never _wanted_ to, and that hadn't changed despite my activities of the last hour. I wanted Derek Henry to hurt and to pay for the crimes he'd committed, but I couldn't do this anymore ... not even for Jane and the others. Anger and self-righteousness only took a person so far, and mine had run out. I didn't want to be like him.

I'd been telling myself I would avenge Layla for months now, but in reality that wasn't my place. Revenge was something reserved for those who'd suffered the crimes at the perpetrator's hand or the loved ones who had suffered in the wake of them. As grateful as I was to Layla, I was neither of those things, despite the attachment and fondness I had developed for her during the course of all this. The most I could do for her was hold up my end of the bargain I'd made, which included justice and peace for her mother and Shiri, but no matter how much I didn't want to continue torturing Derek, there was one thing I still needed to do.

I gave him three hours to recover before I slapped him again to get his attention. When he looked at me and could hold his head up to meet my gaze for several seconds on his own, I brought my hand out from behind my back and waved the contents of my fist in front of his face.

"Recognize these, Derek?" I asked. They were bolt cutters.

His eyes widened in realization.

"I knew you would," I said. "They _are_ yours, after all. These are what you used to cut off all your victims' fingertips."

I looped some extra chain under his armpits so that he would remain hanging when I released the tension that was holding his body aloft and then let his arms drop. He was too weak from the torture to take a swing or even make a grab for me. Picking up his left hand, I ran the bolt cutters against his fingers before clamping them around his pinkie until they just made contact with the surface of his skin. He shuddered, knowing what was coming.

"Now, I know you prefer the first knuckle, Derek," I said. "But what are your thoughts on the second?"

I tightened my grip on the bolt cutters, aligning them perfectly in the space between the bones, and then there was the crunching sound of skin and cartilage being ripped apart. Derek screamed.

oOo

_Thursday, November 12th, 2080_

I'd returned to Forks the day before, the tightness in my chest I'd only noticed had gone after I left again easing when I got back within the city limits.

Derek Henry was still in the cabin in Capitol Reef National Park. I'd left him hanging there, one slow drip I.V. programed to allow him a one liter bag of fluids per day inserted in a vein in each of his hands, one each in a vein in the crooks of his elbows, one each in a vein in his feet, and one in his jugular. They were on a timer: the first I.V. started its drip at 6:00 am the day after I left, the second started precisely twenty-four hours later, and each of the rest of them would continue in that pattern until they'd all run dry. It wouldn't keep him totally hydrated, but he wouldn't die from dehydration either. There were seven in all because I hoped I wouldn't have to wait longer than a week before I called in his coordinates. If I did have to, he would be okay for a day or two without fluids before he kicked the bucket.

He was still hanging from the ceiling by shackles around his wrists so that his toes were just barely skimming the floor, but I'd made some adjustments—his shoulders were now dislocated. With no leverage and the sturdiness of the rafters, chains and shackles, he would not be escaping. The manner in which he'd stabbed his victims was designed to make them suffer as much as possible. After all the pain he'd inflicted, he deserved _some_ pain of his own. I had, unfortunately, had to treat and bandage his now mangled hands though. I wouldn't want him to bleed out before he got what was coming to him, would I?

I wouldn't call the police to tell them where he was until I implemented the last part of my plan. Once the final phase was completed and I called in his coordinates, he would be fucked. I'd left every scrap of evidence from Louisville and all the stuff I'd collected on my own and at his house in plain sight. That evidence included a recording of him shouting out that he'd killed Amber Jenkins—after editing out my voice—the photo albums, trophies and the sets of fingertips. His own fingertips had joined all of it. If he didn't at least get life in prison, I'd be shocked. I would also be pissed. I did figure that that was unlikely. It was far more feasible that he'd end up with the death penalty. After the terrorist attacks of 2012, our judicial system came down even more harshly on murderers than they had before. I was kind of uncomfortable with that even though he deserved it. It wasn't my place to decide who lived and who died, but I did need to prevent him from killing any more women. It wasn't my intention to play God. That didn't mean I would feel sorry if he got the death penalty though—that was a sentence he'd earned all on his own whether I had gotten him arrested or not.

I had also left Derek high on strong doses of LSD and acid, a high that would last for several days without food to absorb it or enough fluids to flush it out of his system. I hadn't been able to stomach torturing him anymore, but if I couldn't be there to make the ghosts of his victims haunt him as much as something like that could a person like him, I had to come up with a way to do it in my absence. The drawings on the walls were aiding in that endeavor as well as loud noises and some other rather creative things, and the hallucinations had been in full swing when I left. Needless to say, he'd been in quite a state. Personally, I thought it was poetic. The guy had been preying on women with drug habits by pretending he'd had one as well. Now he was so fucking high he was approaching the sun, and he was miserable, out of control and a totally different kind of crazy because of it.

Poetry aside, I was beginning to wonder if I _would_ be going to hell for drugging people after all. No matter how despicable those people were, it was an awful thing to do. I didn't like that it seemed to be becoming a habit for me, first with Connor and now with Derek.

Emmett and Rosalie were the only ones home at the moment, the others all having things to do.

I had gotten home from work an hour ago and was now curled up on the couch watching a movie with them. Rosalie was unsurprisingly disgruntled by my presence, but Emmett was his usual cheery self.

He'd been ecstatic and relieved by my return. I had known he was concerned that I was lying about coming back, but I hadn't realized just how much. All of the Cullens' relief at my return really stumped me. Even Peter and Charlotte were noticeably glad I'd come back. Rosalie obviously wasn't, and Jasper was just as unreadable as ever, but I just didn't get it. I had done nothing to deserve their affection, I certainly hadn't earned it, but it was undeniably present.

Emmett was chattering about the movie and making jokes that were actually lightening my mood when my cell phone rang. My breath hitched in my throat. I didn't need to look at the caller I.D. to know who it was, and I didn't want to.

Answering this call was going to be the last and most difficult part of wrapping things up with Layla by far. This would be the end of the long road to redemption I'd been travelling down, the conclusion of my plan to bring Derek Henry to justice and give Layla peace.

I lifted myself wearily to my feet, mentally preparing myself for this conversation—one I knew I needed to have, one I _wanted_ to have on some level but on another wholeheartedly didn't. Making my way out onto the back porch and a good distance from the house, I stared at my phone in unease.

Taking a deep breath and steeling myself, I pressed the talk button and answered, "Hello, Mrs. Davidson."

_"Hello?"_ the soft, feminine but weary voice sounded on the other end of the line. She sounded confused, and I didn't blame her. _"You're the girl who called me?"_

"Yes, ma'am," I responded.

I had called and left a message on Kathleen Davidson's voicemail on Tuesday, requesting that she call me just after I'd passed over the Utah state line. I had been hoping to talk to her then, while I was far away from Forks. I felt the need to keep those two parts of my life as separate as possible. It would have been better, more respectful, to have this conversation face-to-face, but it wasn't possible for so many reasons. For starters, even though my involvement in this whole situation was vague and disconnected, the likelihood of the police discovering my part in it slim, I was still involved and couldn't take the risk. But my primary reason for avoiding breaking this news to her in person was the simple fact that I couldn't face her. It was cowardly and inexcusable, but how did one stand there and look a mother in the eyes as they told her her daughter was dead and that she would never get to bury her while neglecting to mention you were the reason for it?

_"What is it that you want? You didn't say in your message."_

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "I wanted to speak with you about your daughter."

She took a similar breath to mine. _"You know my Layla?"_

"Yes, ma'am, I do," I confirmed quietly. My voice should have been stronger, but for once, I couldn't manage to do what needed to be done. I didn't know Layla in the typical sense of the word, but after everything, I felt like I did.

_"Oh my God!"_ Kathleen exclaimed breathlessly. _"I've been searching for her for years!"_

That was true, but Kathleen Davidson hadn't had the money to hire a decent private detective, and she'd been taken advantage of by the ones she _could_ afford.

"I know." My voice was still quiet. I still couldn't make it stronger.

_"How is she?"_ she asked excitedly. _"Is she alright?"_

I paused, attempting to collect myself. I had been trying and trying to figure out what to say to her, to find the right words to tell her that her daughter was dead, but those words didn't exist.

"I wish I could tell you she was, ma'am," I answered solemnly.

The other end of the line went silent. Kathleen was hardly even breathing. When she finally spoke several minutes later, her voice was choked with emotion despite her resigned sigh. _"I can't say I'm surprised."_

A lump rose in my throat and stuck there no matter how many times I swallowed.

My silence invited Mrs. Davidson to continue.

_"It's an overdose, isn't it?"_ she asked. _"Is she in the hospital?"_

Her voice was pleading. She wanted me to tell her it wasn't as bad as it could be. I wished I _could_ tell her that. I had never wanted to lie so badly in my life.

"No, ma'am." I wasn't able to say any more than that, not yet, and I gave myself a few seconds before I pushed on. In those seconds I began to pace. My energy level had skyrocketed, become nearly unbearable, and I needed to move. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but your daughter is dead, Mrs. Davidson."

Another sharp breath sounded. _"You said no about the hospital," _she managed to say thickly. _"But you didn't say if it was an overdose."_

"It wasn't."

_"What happened to my daughter?"_ she demanded, her tone turning harsh in spite of her obvious grief. She had picked up on my hesitancy. There was no way she couldn't have.

I clamped my eyes shut and dropped my head into my unoccupied hand, digging my thumb and forefinger into my temples until it hurt. I suddenly longed for cool fingers and the shock of electricity to loosen them.

"She was murdered," I answered, my voice going from quiet to barely a whisper. The speed of my pacing increased, no rhyme or reason to my path.

I knew Kathleen Davidson heard me from the strangled cry that escaped her. It was practically deafening in the quiet that surrounded the Cullen home and the sensitivity of my hearing. It was another several minutes before she spoke again, but the shuddering gasps of her tears broke my heart little by little until it felt as though there was nothing left of it but a pile of ash in my chest.

I wished I was crying too. It seemed disrespectful not to join Kathleen in her grief, both to her and to Layla. Still, my eyes were bone dry.

_"How did my Layla die?"_ she asked, her voice eerily calm once her sobs dissipated.

I sighed. "You deserve to know that, and you will, ma'am, but that isn't why I called. You'll be hearing from the police in a few days, and they will give you those details."

_"If that's not the reason you called, then why did you?"_ she asked. She sounded tired. I understood. I was tired too.

"I called to tell you the things they can't."

_"I don't understand,"_ she replied, her confusion palpable even over the phone.

I took a few more deep breaths. This should have been the easy part—telling her how far Layla had come in the years since they'd last seen each other—but it wasn't. The words were even more difficult to find, and I wanted them to come naturally, to flow like water off my tongue. Layla deserved to have someone confident and proud telling her mother of her final accomplishments, not someone awkward and floundering. At least I was proud, there was that.

"Layla was clean when she died," I began, my voice steady. I hadn't expected that. I forced myself to halt. All the frenetic energy that had taken root in me had drained suddenly, but that didn't affect my need to move. Still, I felt like it was important to stop, though I didn't know why. "Had been for two years. It was the second time she'd managed it in the last six. I believe, had it not been for circumstances, that it would have stuck the first time.

"She met a man, you see. His name was Brandon, and they fell in love. She cleaned herself up, and she was doing well," I told her. "He treated her the way any mother would hope a man would treat their daughter, and they were happy. They loved each other more than anything, but one day, two years after they met, Brandon walked in on a convenience store robbery. He was killed saving the clerk's life, and in her grief, Layla relapsed."

Kathleen's tears had returned, but I tuned them out. If I didn't get through this as quickly as possible, I wouldn't get through it at all.

"Six months later, she overdosed, and that was when she realized she'd hit rock bottom again. She became determined to get back to sobriety," I said. "She had a really good reason to, you see." I was bumbling around, repeating words I'd already used, but I couldn't seem to help that, so I pushed on. "When she overdosed, she ended up serving three months in jail, and she lost custody of her daughter." I knew she'd probably want to interrupt after I revealed that information, but I didn't give her the opportunity, neither with time nor my tone of voice, but she was quiet as the dead. "She went to rehab, started going to therapy and NA, got a job. Layla really got her act together, Mrs. Davidson. You should be proud. You should also know that she'd filed for custody of her daughter just before she died, and if she hadn't disappeared, the judge would have granted it to her."

I finally stopped there, waiting for my words to sink in.

_"Daughter?"_ she breathed, finally breaking her silence. _"She had a daughter? I have a granddaughter?"_

"Yes, ma'am."

_"I have a granddaughter,"_ she repeated in wonder.

"Yes," I confirmed with a smile. "She's four years old, and she's beautiful."

_"You've seen her?"_ Kathleen gasped.

"Yes, ma'am," I responded, still smiling as I thought of Shiri, the sweet little girl who'd stolen my heart in a matter of seconds. "She's got white blonde hair and blue eyes, and she's the spitting image of Layla. She's got Brandon's smile though."

_"Oh,"_ she cried out, half in grief and half in happiness. Having a granddaughter wouldn't take the pain of losing her child away, but it would ease the ache. _"What's her name?"_

I sighed again. Kathleen wouldn't like what I was about to say. I began to pace again. "I won't tell you that."

_"Why not?"_ she demanded in indignation.

"Your granddaughter has been through hell, ma'am. She has lost both her mother and her father, and the foster home she was placed in wasn't a good one. I was there. I experienced that firsthand."

Another anguished cry escaped her, and I hated myself for causing it, but I was still determined to protect Shiri.

"I'm afraid that if I tell you her name and where she is that you'll rush off to see her half-cocked," I explained. "I think it would be wonderful if she could see you, maybe even be raised by you or, at the very least, have you in her life, but now isn't the time for that."

_"The hell it's not!"_ Kathleen snapped furiously. _"That isn't your call to make."_

"No, it isn't," I agreed. "But I'm making it anyway."

_"How dare you!"_ she screamed.

"Let's get one thing straight," I cut in, the strength of the ferocity and menace in my tone shutting her up. "I am holding all the cards at the moment, so you're going to stay as quiet as you are now and really listen. Right now you're in shock, you're grieving and you're desperate to get even a little piece of your daughter back. You're not thinking about what it would mean to truly be involved in your granddaughter's life for the long haul, so you're going to take some fucking time to consider it from every angle before you make a decision. She deserves for you to be sure about it before you just show up making promises that you may or may not keep! I met your granddaughter by accident funnily enough, having no idea she had any connection to Layla at the time, and I wasn't kidding when I said she's been through hell. _I_ was the one who figured out she was being abused, and _I_ was the one who did something about it! You have no idea the price I nearly paid to get her out of that situation, and I will not allow anyone to come into her life and hurt her again, so _like I said_, maybe it's not my call to make, but I'm damn well fucking making it anyway!"

_Shit! _ I had never intended to say that last part. I could only hope that Kathleen Davidson wouldn't put the pieces together once she knew more about Shiri.

Kathleen remained quiet again for awhile. _"How do I know you're telling me the truth? That all of this isn't some sick joke?"_

I had wondered if she would ask me something like that, and I was prepared for it. "You don't, but I am. If you give me a second, I can prove it."

I didn't wait for her to give me an answer, pulling my phone away from my ear, clicking out of the call without disconnecting from it and emailing her the photos from Layla's locket, which I had scanned into my phone a couple days ago. "Check your email."

It was only a minute later that I heard her gasp again. _"Oh, she's beautiful! They're beautiful!"_

"I know."

_"Thank you for this,"_ she said. I could hear how sincerely she meant it and it warmed me, but I still felt an emptiness.

"Please don't," I requested, my shame over everything—the morgue in particular—welling up and making it impossible for me to accept a thank you. I wasn't doing this for a thank you. "I'm just keeping a promise I made to Layla as well as one to your granddaughter."

_I just had no idea they were connected at the time I made them._

_"I _have _to thank you,"_ Kathleen insisted. _"I might never have known any of this if not for you."_

"If you really must thank me—" I sighed wearily— "do what I asked and be sure before you get involved with your granddaughter. Mean it with all your heart because if you hurt that little girl, I _will_ kill you, and I mean that with all _my_ heart," I threatened.

_"I will,"_ she promised, and I knew she meant that too. _"You haven't told me your name."_

I smiled. "My name doesn't matter. The only thing that does is that you and Layla find peace and get justice and that your granddaughter does as well. The justice part is coming, and I've given you the tools to find peace and closure. What you do with them is up to you. I imagine you will be hearing from the police in about a week. Goodbye, Mrs. Davidson."

I would give Kathleen five days to think things over, and then I was calling in Derek Henry's whereabouts.

I had thought when all of this was said and done that the relief I would feel would be overwhelming, but it wasn't. As I stood there in the Cullens' backyard, gazing intently at the treeline of the forest that edged their property, what I felt was emptiness. And then, all of a sudden, with the force of tsunami, it hit me. All the emotion of the last two months: the rage, fear, uncertainty, anxiety and sense of betrayal at being arrested, the anger and injustice at Rafe Jones' abuse of his wife and children, the terror, panic and trauma of ending up in the morgue and nearly dying, the crippling guilt, shame and disgust over what I'd done to escape, and my determination and desperation to make it right when that was impossible to do. My knees buckled, hitting the ground with a brutal impact, and the tears came hard and fast.

I was a girl who rarely cried, but the sobs consumed me now, deep, relentless and heartrending. They stole the breath from my lungs and left me trembling in their wake. I pulled my knees to my chest, wrapped my arms around them and pressed my forehead into the empty space, the wetness of my tears soaking through the denim of my jeans.

I don't know how long I was crouched there before big, muscular arms encircled me, lifting me high into the air and carrying me toward the house. They were Emmett's arms, cradling me tight to his chest like I was something precious, and they made me uneasy, but I also, contradictorily, found comfort in them. My own arms snaked up around his neck, and I buried my head in his shoulder, my tears still coming hard and fast. Emmett stroked my hair with soft touches and dexterity, murmuring sweet, comforting words I couldn't register into my ear as he carried me to my bedroom. He held me until I had no more tears to cry. I let him.

oOo

**A/N: **So there we have it—the Jane Doe murder mystery is solved!

I got the picana electrica idea from an episode of _Burn Notice_, though I had to do a bit of research on it outside of Michael Westen.

Bella sketching Derek's victims using crayons by making dots on the paper as megapixels is from _Kyle XY_. I don't know if it can actually be done, but it is my little tribute to a brilliant show that was cancelled too soon. It was a favorite of mine. The way Matt Dallas portrayed Kyle with such an innocent wonder that then morphed into such maturity and responsibility was fantastic. If you haven't seen it, you should.

This was a pretty heavy chapter for Bella. She accomplished what she set out to—to find justice for Layla, and ended the emotional journey that had been tearing her up since she escaped the morgue. Now that that is over and done with, how will she fare? What else do I have in store for her? Hmmm ...

If you want to see Layla and Shiri, pictures are posted on my photobucket album.

Next week is an outtake. As I said above, whether or not it will include Jasper's POV, I don't yet know.

Until next time, take care. :)


	40. Chapter 30 Part 2 Outtake

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm only borrowing her characters for a little while. The plot and original characters of Longing do belong to me, however. Jasper as the God of War and Peter "just knowing shit" are ideas that belong to Idreamofeddy.

Thank you to my wonderful beta and friend, Laurie Whitlock, my beloved sister/beta/prereader, Shelljayz, as well as the Jay of ShellJayz—my brother-in-law who helps sometimes, though he has no actual affection for Twilight and just puts up with me and my sister's affection for it. We love him anyway. Thank you also to the fabulous juliangelus for prereading. If you haven't read her story, _tiger stripes_, you should.

Thank you to all of you who have read, followed, favorited and reviewed my story. You are awesome, and I love you!

**IMPORTANT: ****Longing is only the first installment in a trilogy. It may even extend into a fourth part. My intentions for the plot as a whole are simply too big for one story to encompass. I foresee probably forty-five total chapters for Longing, not including outtakes, or that is what I'm hoping for. Those chapters will all be long, I'm sure, and by the end, this story will be a lot of words, probably too many. ;) Just be prepared for the idea that the end of Longing isn't the end of Jasper and Bella's journey, and if you are interested in carrying on with that journey once Longing reaches its conclusion, you should put me on author alert. In any case, I will keep you posted about the second story in the series when there is news about it.**

And now, we find out what was going on in the house during Bella's phone call ...

oOo

_Thursday, November 12th, 2080_

RPOV

Bella fucking Crawfield had kept her word and returned from wherever the hell she'd disappeared to for five days while on her road trip to "do the world a service." I did not know what the fuck that meant, and I was dying to go all Nancy Drew to find out, but we weren't allowed. Carlisle had made us all promise that with a steel to him I had never seen in the one hundred forty-seven years since he'd turned me. I had disappointed and infuriated him enough over this aggravating, idiot human and wouldn't risk doing it again, no matter how much she made my venom boil.

I had been angry with Carlisle for decades for turning me and bitter too, but I was over that now. The bottom line was he was my father and maybe I could be a frigid shrew, but I loved him. I couldn't stand the look he got on his face when I disappointed him. Didn't every little girl scrabble for her Daddy's love? I knew Carlisle loved me regardless, but I sometimes felt the need to claw for it and hold tight, as though it would slip away from me with the slightest touch of a breeze. It was a remnant of my human life and my relationship with my human father. He had seen no value in me other than what status my beauty could elevate him to. Carlisle didn't care about my looks, he didn't care that I was vain or that I could, on occasion, be selfish. He loved me anyway, and secretly, I kind of thought of myself as a Daddy's girl, but I had never been brave enough to tell him that.

At any rate, as long as Bella held to her end of the deal, I would hold to ours for his, Emmett's and the sakes of all the other family members who gave a shit about her. I loved them all too much to be selfish enough to violate the deal, but I still didn't trust her.

So fine, maybe the way she'd kept her mouth shut when ratty-haired Jessica Stanley tried to pump her for information on us was pretty cool; I did not so much appreciate the "Rosalie shoves hot peppers up her ass" comment, but her defensive comeback was strong, and she did emphasize it was a bullshit statement ... not that I gave a fuck what the humans thought. Bella was loyal, and that was a quality I liked, even though I did not like her.

The way she had handled Lauren Mallory was admittedly impressive as well. It reinforced her already obvious intelligence and ability to think on her feet. She had come back at that self-important bitch, (a hypocritical statement for me to throw out into the universe but whatever), quick as lightning, coming up with the back story for that little taunt with a speed that was highly unusual for a human. I could almost say it was vampire fast, but that was impossible. There were genius humans, but even their smarts could rarely compare to ours, and if she _was_ a genius, why the fuck had she agreed to the hell that was high school? We endured it for a taste of normalcy and to blend in. If she was that damn smart, high school was beneath her, and she didn't have any reason that came close to ours to put up with all the bullshit and drama. Still, I loved how she'd handled the whole thing. It was a hell of a lot easier to swallow when I wasn't on the receiving end of her quick thinking and sharp wit, though I had always grudgingly admired how she'd handled me too. That wasn't to say it didn't piss me the fuck off every single damn time, but Bella kind of reminded me of Charlotte—like she had the potential to be the kind of friend to me that Char was. Bella had already proven she could hurl shit back at me just as hard as I dished it out to her, that she could keep up with my brilliant wit and biting sense of humor, and she'd already put me in my place once. All those things made me respect her unfortunately.

Then there was the comment she'd made to Emmett about me being the gold standard of gorgeous. I always appreciated compliments on my looks, no matter who they came from, and I certainly wasn't offended by her telling him I wasn't a waif. I knew I wasn't, and I was proud of that. Being too thin was not attractive. I didn't see the point of being a woman if you didn't have breasts, hips and an ass worth looking at. A girl couldn't have those things without a little meat on her bones.

I also liked that I bugged her just as much as she bugged me. Being mutual pains in each others' ass was also a plus.

That still did _not_ mean I liked her. I disliked her for all the same reasons I had from the beginning with the exception of my initial assumption about her being in all this to take advantage of us. She had definitely shown that she wasn't here because of our money just as well as she had proven she could swing a proverbial punch just as hard as I could.

Everyone continued to become more and more attached to her, which was fucking annoying. So she occasionally had decent moments and even made me laugh sometimes. I didn't see how that made her endearing. Then there was the whole Jasper predicament. So Bella being here might be a good thing for him. I thought Peter was absolutely wrong about that. She agitated the fuck out of him. How was that a good thing?

I truly had hoped she'd be one of those bitches whose word meant nothing and that we'd never see her again. No such luck, and I'd had to watch the joy and relief on most of my family's faces as they welcomed her back. I'd also unexpectedly had to fend off the warm and fuzzies as I did it. It was irritating.

Now Emmett and I were sitting on the couch watching _The Hangover,_ of all things, with her. The rest of the family had gone hunting and left us to babysit. Well, it wasn't babysitting exactly—Bella didn't need to be babysat—but that's still what I called it. It was Emmett's idea for us to stay behind. It hadn't been that long since we'd gone hunting ourselves, and he'd really wanted to spend time with her. He had asked me, his usual enthusiasm shining through even though he tried, for my sake, to tamp it down, and I agreed because he was Emmett and hanging out with the human was the current equivalent of lassoing the moon. I was even managing to be less hostile than I usually was.

He was chattering at Bella like she'd been gone for years instead of days. I had so far managed not to roll my eyes or make any snide comments. Emmett sometimes talked a mile a minute but he rarely ever said anything that wasn't worth listening to, even when he was being a dumbass. He almost always made me laugh, and Bella looked like she needed to laugh. I wasn't sure why I cared. Though she was smiling some, she was only half paying attention to him, and I was getting progressively pissed off by it, even if she did look like she needed a good dose of levity.

I was on the verge of tearing into her for it when her cell phone rang. She looked almost sick when it did, and when she left the room without so much as excusing herself or acknowledging Em, she appeared to be genuinely apprehensive. There was a resignation on her face that made her seem years older than she was. Now instead of scowling, I was frowning. Emmett was too.

We heard Bella's footsteps trail quite a ways away from the house but not far enough to travel out of our hearing range. We should have headed upstairs to one of the rooms with soundproofing to give her privacy. Technically, keeping our asses planted on the couch and eavesdropping could be considered intentionally prying and a total violation of the deal Carlisle had made with her and bound us all to without asking us about it beforehand. I didn't give a shit. I was fucking curious, and even though I'd agreed to abide the terms, _I_ hadn't made that deal. I had no qualms about breaking it. The only one who would find out was Edward, and while he would throw a few disapproving looks my way, he wouldn't snitch.

Emmett was torn. He _did_ care about violating the terms of the deal. He didn't want to give Bella any reason to leave, but he had noticed the troubled expression on her face as she'd trudged outside too. He was worried about her and was hesitant to leave in case she might end up needing him. _I_ wasn't worried about her in the least. I was _not_.

We stayed.

Hearing Bella tell a woman her daughter had been murdered came as a shock to both Emmett and me. What could she possibly have been mixed up in that put her in that situation? It really was no wonder she'd looked so uneasy when she'd taken the call. She sounded genuinely torn up about it, tortured even, and sympathy for her began to creep into my veins. That couldn't have been easy news to break.

It crossed my mind that Bella's mysterious road trip may have had something to do with that.

I had then empathized with the woman when Bella met her request to know what had happened to her daughter with evasion, but Bella's voice was laced with compassion and true regret. I couldn't see her face, but it was as clear in her tone as a cloudless, sunny day. My anger with Bella at her refusal to share that information with the woman dampened at the sound of it, its flame dousing entirely when she explained she'd called to tell this heartbroken mother the things about her daughter the police would never be able to. For all I knew, Bella didn't actually know the details of how this woman's daughter died or about the life she'd lived, but she was trying to give this woman solace. That was a noble and kind thing for her to do.

As she proceeded to share all the wonderful points of the years of the life her daughter had led and this woman had missed, also sharing the tragic and brutal, the heartache Bella felt over it was only intensified more clearly. The woman, Mrs. Davidson, didn't notice, but that was understandable. The icy hatred I felt towards Bella melted a little. Emmett's heart melted completely, but Emmett was the most kindhearted person I'd ever known and ever would, and Bella had always had that effect on him.

When Bella revealed to Mrs. Davidson that she had a granddaughter, the woman's joy was monumental, intermingling with her immense grief in a potent way that almost left me reeling. I understood, though not for the same reasons. My grief and anger over what Royce had done to me had swallowed me up, consuming me, sucking me into a black hole of misery, pain and despair I never saw a way out of in spite of the façade I wore that suggested otherwise ... and then along came Emmett. He didn't take away the pain or the memories, but he lessened it, dulled the misery, eased the despair, showed me a way out of the black hole. It took awhile, but he gave me the ability to heal. This woman's granddaughter would do the same for her. Bella was giving that to her. I, of all people, could appreciate the kindness of that. A little more of the ice melted.

But it wasn't until Bella refused to give Mrs. Davidson any information on the little girl who had suffered so much and then lit into her for jumping the gun that could lead to her making promises to her granddaughter that she might not keep that the ice truly began to thaw in earnest.

Her protectiveness of the little girl was fierce and dangerous. Even with so many yards between us, Emmett and I knew it, and this was different than how she'd gotten protective of us. She had been fierce in that instance too, but there was a willingness and hardness to her tone and I suspected to her body language, had we been able to see it, that would have been the same. She would do anything to keep that little girl safe, and she confirmed it by threatening to kill Mrs. Davidson if she did let her granddaughter down. I believed with every fiber of my being that she meant it, and I didn't condemn her for it. I would have done the same thing.

My love for children, which began with Vera's Henry, had not died with me. I liked them until they hit puberty, unless they were spoiled, whiny little brats for no apparent reason. Then they just annoyed the shit out of me, but until that happened, I felt just as protective of them as Bella apparently did. It was another thing we had in common.

Neither Emmett nor I liked what Bella implied to Mrs. Davidson about the price she'd nearly paid to get her granddaughter out of that abusive situation. When the family voted to take her in, a huge part of that had to do with the likelihood that she would end up either in an abusive foster home or on the streets; Bella had just confirmed that we hadn't saved her from that fate even if it was a situation she'd been in before she came into our lives. That confirmation made me sick to my stomach.

When Bella finally hung up from that emotionally draining conversation and began to cry, my heart broke a little ... okay, maybe a lot. This seventeen year old girl had been carrying a weight on her shoulders that was so immense. No one should have to carry a burden like that. One look at my mate told me he felt the same. He wanted to go to her, to comfort her, to take on some of that burden.

I touched his arm and his gaze drifted to mine. "Go," I said softly. "She needs you."

Emmett nodded and got to his feet.

oOo

**A/N:** We got another look inside Rosalie's head. I always think that's fun, personally, and I hope you do too. Rose's perception of Bella is changing! How about that? Is it a freaking miracle or what? How will that affect their relationship do you think?

I did, in fact, finish the JPOV outtake for chapter 30 Part 1. However, it is being betaed and preread and all that fun junk. I will post it when all that is done, which means there will be an extra update this week. Does that make anyone happy?

As always, I would love to know what you think!

Take care until next time! :)


	41. Chapter 30 Part 1 Outtake: JPOV

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm only borrowing her characters for a little while. The plot and original characters of Longing do belong to me, however. Jasper as the God of War and Peter "just knowing shit" are ideas that belong to Idreamofeddy.

Thank you to my wonderful beta and friend, Laurie Whitlock, my beloved sister/beta/prereader, Shelljayz, and also to the fabulous juliangelus for prereading. If you haven't read her story, _tiger stripes_, you should. You should check out Laurie's stories as well. :)

Thank you to all of you who have read, followed, favorited and reviewed my story. You are awesome, and I love you!

Well, here you go, guys: Jasper's thoughts during Bella's breakdown. This was a real bitch to write for many reasons, so I hope you like it. It would not be what it is without the help of the wonderful ladies mentioned above.

oOo

_Tuesday, November 2nd, 2080_

JPOV

My conversation with Carlisle the day before had filled my brain with things I didn't want to consider. Everything he'd dumped on me was too fuckin' much on top of all my other shit. His diagnosis was unexpected and unwelcome. I hadn't gone to him and opened up so he could take the opportunity to psychoanalyze me. I knew he was just trying to help, but that wasn't the purpose or the point. The point was to inform him so he could be prepared if things went to hell and Bella got in the way—that was all. He wasn't supposed to go all shrinky mind-fucker on me. Even though I'd gone to him, that didn't mean I wasn't pissed for what I saw as him overstepping his bounds.

I knew I wasn't perfect, that I had weaknesses. I already had to hear the Major's voice in my head constantly reminding me of that. So, to add Carlisle's two cents to the equation was starting to set me off, and I was already on edge to begin with.

Even in my agitation, I knew Carlisle was just making observations, but the idea that I had a disorder or some shit was ridiculous, so I didn't want to think about his crackpot theories. Unfortunately, I _had_ to consider them because I went all soft and promised him I would. I didn't often make promises, so I always did my best to keep them when I did, but I wasn't going to think on them now. I would do it later, when it was more convenient.

Instead of going home after our chat, I'd gone hunting. I'd needlessly slaughtered animals and uprooted all sorts of trees and vegetation, crumbled boulders and roared at the sky. Then I'd drunk my fill of blood until my stomach felt like it would burst. Dramatic, maybe, but necessary.

After that, I went to a waterfall I knew and relaxed, focusing on the sound of the water until there was nothing left in my head. I'd stayed there for hours, not returning home until just before Bella usually got up to get ready for school.

School was a welcome distraction from all the unwanted shit in my head. It was normally boring as fuck, and that wasn't any different today. I never had to concentrate because I was a vampire with a huge amount of brain power, but I forced myself to give it my all. As much as school blew, it succeeded in keeping my mind blank.

Now I was sitting at the dining room table with Bella, working on our history project about the terrorist attacks of 2012. Well, I would have been, only Bella wasn't there. Her eyes were clouded over, and that lost hue had returned to them, that hue that was just so fuckin' wrong it made my insides twist. Wherever she was, it wasn't with me and it wasn't a place that was pleasant. I could relate.

She stayed in that place for a long time, and I didn't know what to do, how to bring her out of it. I felt helpless, and I hated it. There was also a little part of me that loved it because it gave me something else to focus on besides me and all my shit. When Bella finally came back from wherever she'd gone, she had to have noticed my intent gaze. She wouldn't have raised a questioning eyebrow at me if she hadn't.

I raised my own eyebrow. "You back with me, sugar?"

I wasn't going to make a big deal out of her departure from reality. If it was me, that's what I would have wanted, but I also didn't want her to think I didn't notice at all or that I didn't care that she was hurting. As always, my sentiments, while mild, weren't well-received.

She scowled. "I wasn't aware I left."

"Oh, you were definitely someplace else," I remarked with confidence and a grin at her irritation. The fact that I affected her in that way amused me because her ire pissed me off. That made me a hypocrite because _I_ got irritated by that shit, and I shouldn't judge. I _tried_ not to be irritated by it. I _wasn't_ judging her. I just wanted her to let me care about her, at least in this, without being a bitch about it.

I tried to hide my grin at her obvious annoyance since her unwillingness to accept my subtle concern did piss me off. It made me happy that she only noticed my amusement and not my own agitation. She only grew more irked. It wasn't nice of me considering, but I decided to provoke her more. My intent wasn't entirely malicious though. I still hated seeing her in pain, and the sooner we got this shit done, the sooner she wouldn't be.

"You ready to get to work or are you headed back to La La Land?"

Bella's scowl deepened. "You are an insufferable smart ass, Jasper Whitlock."

I grinned boyishly at her and a strange look twisted her features. Her beauty struck me like a blow in that moment, and I fought not to let it show. Why did she have to be so damn gorgeous? "So I've been told."

"I hate you," she growled.

I expected to be angry by her declaration of hatred, though I shouldn't have been. It wasn't something I didn't already know, but it had never stopped pissing me off. Instead I was bothered … maybe even hurt, and that _did_ piss me off. I didn't hate her anymore. I was beginning to wonder if I ever had, which bugged me even more. I didn't want to care about her. I wouldn't even if I didn't like that she was in pain.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I hate you too. Now can we get started? I have other things to do."

She knew I was annoyed. I could tell, and it pleased her. She sucked. I wanted to tell her that, and I would have if the look of discomfort on her face hadn't returned and deepened. It didn't last for long though. Determination filled her expression and she bit out a reply.

"Ditto."

That determination of hers that I so admired wavered soon after and her distraction took over once more. Attempting to work on this project was going to be trying if I had to deal with her indifference the whole time. I was tempted to tell her to leave, that I would do the rest of the project myself. As much as I didn't want to care about her, that she was hurting, I still couldn't stand that she was so upset. I didn't think she even realized that I'd picked up on it, and that, almost more than anything else, disturbed me since she was so observant.

I needed to get this shit started so we could get it over with, so I dragged a chair next to her and pulled my laptop in front of us. Then I booted it up and glanced at her out of the corner of my eye to see if she was still with me. She was pale, and she looked conflicted, but I couldn't tell over what. There was a slightly different tenor to it now. It was less haunted, more confused and torn. She was biting her lip.

_Goddamn it!_ the Major and I hissed in unison, fighting back a groan. I wasn't sure how I managed to keep it from slipping out and echoing in the room.

It was difficult, but I ignored my baser urges and brought my attention back to the matter at hand. I pulled up an academic website with a great database of pictures depicting the carnage of the aftermath of the terrorist attacks and began tagging the ones that had potential for use in our media project. Bella's attention span flew out the window the second I clicked on the link.

My attempts to get her to give me her input were half-assed and it wasn't long before I let her off the hook completely. It was useless anyway.

It wasn't until I hit play on a video about our topic that things truly went to hell, and I wanted to kick myself for being such a fuckin' dumbass.

The typical human physiological responses to anger and fear were increased heart rate, blood flow, respiration and perspiration, a surge of both adrenaline and nonadrenaline in the bloodstream and tension in the muscles. There were a few minor differences between the two, but those were the main ones. Bella is somewhat of an anomaly. Her reactions to pretty much everything never seemed to match those of a "normal" human. There were only three instances where she'd shown more than one of those typical responses to anger or fear: the alley in Louisville, the first time we'd worked on this project and Halloween when I'd brought her to her knees, and even then, her reactions weren't nearly as strong as they should have been. Two of those three instances were a direct result of my provocation, and the third was colored by my presence. I wasn't even going to contemplate her responses to what I'd done to her when I'd pressed her against the wall.

This was different. Bella was losing it. Her heart was racing, her blood was barreling through her veins, her breathing was frantic—borderline gasping. She even whimpered once and squeezed her eyes shut, like she hoped it would make whatever she was seeing disappear and bring her back to reality, and I _knew_ she was trapped somewhere else. It was both an instinct and the look on her face that clued me in. Her eyes were panicked but far away, as though there was a part of her that wasn't aware of her surroundings. Still, she was aware enough to try to act as though everything was normal. Her breathing continued to worsen, her face drained of every last bit of color left there and she was gripping the table so hard her knuckles were white.

And it was my fault. I knew this shit upset her, and I may as well have forced it on her.

I couldn't watch Bella suffer anymore, so I did the same thing I'd done the last time, only when I did it now, I was aware of what I was doing as I did it. I reached out to her and placed my hand over hers. Her hand was small—it was the first time I'd truly noticed. I had seen her devastated and distraught before—when she came home from buying her car and the other day as we worked on this project—but even in her devastation she had never seemed vulnerable to me. But she did seem vulnerable now and it struck me as odd that, of all things, it was the size and delicateness of her hand that made me think it. She practically jumped out of her skin at the contact of my hand, which was also very uncharacteristic for Bella. She never lost her cool over things; not on the outside, at least. She fired off sarcastic remarks, witty insults or adopted a practiced indifference, but she didn't ever let anyone see just how much anything rattled her.

Her gaze snapped to me, but it was unfocused.

"Bella?" I questioned.

"Hmm?" she asked. Her distraction was clear, and I wished, for the billionth time, that I could feel her emotions. I wanted to help her, and I didn't know how. Maybe if I could feel them, I could figure it out.

Our eyes locked and froze, and I lost track of time. Her brown eyes were just so damn pretty and haunting. They were familiar somehow, comforting, and the longer we gazed at each other, the more they seemed to clear. I wanted to help her, and for whatever reason, _this_ was helping. I would look at her like this for as long as it took.

Bella's breathing started to stabilize, and the panic began to vanish from her brown orbs. After awhile it felt safe to let go of her hand. I knew how much she didn't like being touched. I had taken a chance that a physical connection would anchor her the way it had the first time we worked on our project, and it _had_ worked, but it could just as easily have backfired. Now that she was getting better, I needed to break that connection. I had held onto her for long enough.

When I pulled away, she didn't let my hand get more than an inch from hers before she grabbed it and held tight. We'd touched before, many times, but I'd always been the one to initiate it. This was the first time she had, and it threw me.

My eyes dropped to our joined hands. "Do you want to take a break?"

Bella's expression shifted from shell-shocked to relieved, and she answered, "Yeah, my brain is kind of fried."

She let go of me, looking reluctant as she did it, and released a shaky breath. I didn't want to lose the contact with her either, but I wouldn't force it on her if she didn't want it. She may have been conflicted about it, but she _had_ let go. That meant the part of her that didn't want my touch was greater.

Bella propped her elbows on the table, leaned her head in her palms and dug her fingers in her hair. It wasn't gentle. Neither was the way she tugged at it. She didn't hiss or flinch at the punishment she was inflicting on herself. That was more like the Bella I knew, but it worried me. If she didn't stop, she would rip her hair out, not by the roots but with chunks of scalp attached. I _needed_ her to stop. I couldn't explain that need or the swirl of emotion roaring through me. All I knew was that I had to heed it.

I ran my fingers gently, coaxingly, from her knuckles to her fingertips and they loosened almost immediately. She sighed, and I encompassed her hand with mine again. It was the only way I could think of to keep at least one of her hands from diving into her hair again.

"Come on," I said, hauling her to her feet and leading her towards the garage. I was going to get her out of here, on my motorcycle and into some fresh air. It might help clear her head of the last vestiges of her anxiety attack.

She didn't fight me. It was another thing that worried me. Bella _always_ fought me, and this time she didn't. But then, after a few moments hesitation, she did. She turned the tables and started directing me instead, and I felt better. It meant the Bella I knew was still in there.

She towed me up the stairs. I didn't know where to yet, but I didn't resist or speak. She was doing what she needed to do, and I wasn't going to argue with that.

Her bedroom was our final destination. She dragged me inside, shut the door behind us and led me to her bed. My shock over being pushed down on to it was nearly overwhelming—so overwhelming I didn't move from my position on my back or comment when she kicked off her boots, crawled in beside me and took my hand again.

I never imagined I'd ever end up in Bella's bed. It was a thought I'd never really entertained, and my fantasies of being with her generally involved every surface _but_ a mattress. This was different. It wasn't about sex. In all honesty, I wasn't sure what it was about. Comfort, I guess.

When Bella fell asleep a few minutes later, I wasn't surprised. She'd looked exhausted, and I knew from personal experience that the shit she'd just been through wiped a person out. It sure as hell knocked me on my ass when I got blindsided by the same thing, and I was a vampire—that shouldn't have been possible, yet every time it happened to me, I ended up nearly comatose for a short while.

I only briefly entertained the idea of leaving her, but I couldn't shake the notion that she might have a nightmare. It was arrogant to think that she might need me if she did, but I had helped her through her attack earlier. I couldn't discount the possibility that I might be able to help her again.

A little over twenty minutes after she fell asleep, what I was afraid of came to pass—she started to dream, and it wasn't one filled with lollipops and candy canes. She started shaking and whimpering, gasping, and a tear slipped down her cheek. My chest tightened uncomfortably at the sight of it, and I didn't know what the fuck to do. Now that it was happening, I was at a loss. I didn't know how to comfort someone, and I hadn't slept in more than two centuries. Did I just shake her or something?

God, I wished I could project! At least then I could muster up some peace and calm and lay them on her like a blanket. Why was I still so fuckin' inept? And why did I care so goddamn much? I refused to think on that though. I wouldn't find the answer, and I still didn't really want to know what that answer was, so I focused back on the girl lying next to me.

I squeezed her hand and ran my thumb in little circles against her skin. It was the only thing I could think to do, and as cluelessly desperate a gesture as it was, it worked. Bella's breathing regulated, the trembling stopped, her whimpering died out and the two tears she'd shed in the time I'd struggled to come up with something to pull her out of her dream dried to faintly salty trails on her cheeks. I was tempted to wipe them away, but I didn't want to touch her. She looked peaceful for the moment, and I didn't want to ruin it.

It turned out I didn't have to touch her. Not much more than a minute later, Bella began to shift in her sleep. Little by little, her body inched closer to mine. At first her progress was intermittent. She would scoot an inch and halt, remaining still for several seconds before starting in my direction again, but eventually her movement became steady. She didn't stop until she was pressed flush against my side from our shoulders to her toes on my calf, our joined hands sandwiched in between.

The heat of her seeped into my skin. It wasn't so much the electricity, although that was present, but her human warmth. The last time that happened was when we were in Louisville, and I couldn't say I didn't like it. I found that odd and disturbing.

I didn't quite know how it happened, but suddenly Bella was draped over me. That's how fast it happened or maybe it shocked me so much that's how it seemed. Either way, she was lying on me, fast asleep … and I didn't hate it.

I don't cuddle. Cuddling required prolonged periods of touching, and I always did my damndest to limit the amount of touching I did to the least that was required. Even when I fucked, I only used positions that required minimal contact. I did not do that full body caressing, groping, fondling, whatever the hell well-adjusted people wanted to call it, shit. It wasn't appealing to me and any woman I was with either got that and got some or didn't and got none. It was no skin off my nose. I was not Prince Charming. I didn't do Walt Disney-style happily-ever-afters. I didn't believe in them. Most of the women I slept with were nomads I ran across when I was living with Peter and Charlotte either as nomads ourselves or when some of their drifter friends came to visit at one of their houses. Those women understood my anti-affection manifesto because very few of them wanted more than a no-strings fuck either and were just biding their time until their mates came along.

Other than the nomads, most of my sexual exploits were with Kate, and she was beyond chill about my views and issues, even if she didn't share them. Alice was the only woman who'd really had a hard time with my aversion to showing affection during sex or cuddling afterward … until the day she decided to push me on it and had a vision of the aftermath. That schooled her real quick.

Yet here I was, cuddling, and I wasn't freaking out; and I was cuddling with _Bella_, of all people. I suddenly realized this wasn't the only time I'd allowed full body contact between us—I had in Louisville too. I was in a goddamn alternate universe or something. That was the only explanation for this shit.

Then came even more weirdness: her legs tangled with mine, and I actually let them without putting up any sort of fight. Not even half a minute later, her left hand snuck underneath my back and rested on my shoulder blade, her fingertips curling just slightly against my skin. Her head burrowed itself in the crook of my neck, her soft little nose pressed into my skin, and the tickle of her first exhale made me shiver. Then the hand laying on my chest snaked upward, only stopping when she reached the base of my neck and curled into the hair there. It felt good … too damn good, just like it had in Louisville. Why did it have to feel so good? I didn't want it to. I wanted it to make me uncomfortable, the way it did with everyone else. It would give me an excuse to push her off me, but then I would feel guilty because she seemed to need me at the moment. No matter how much it bothered me that I wasn't as bothered as I _should_ be, I still wanted to give her that comfort. I would just have to suck it up.

It didn't help that Bella's body pressed so fully against mine had me reacting the way I always did to her. It wasn't as strong, probably because of what she'd just been through, but my entire body was humming. It was something I couldn't help though. I never had been able to, and it pissed me off just as much now as it always had. I didn't think it would ever _not_ bug me.

I wasn't sure how deeply she was asleep, but considering how aware she was of everything, I had a hunch she was most likely a light sleeper. If she moved her leg any higher, she would know exactly how she was affecting me, and it would probably wake her up. I did not want her to wake up, at least not until I got my dick under control. I refused to let her find out what her body still did to mine. No fuckin' way. I would not give her that power or satisfaction even if I didn't hate her anymore. No one would ever have power over me again. Not in that way, not in any way … unless I chose to give it to them, and that would never fuckin' happen.

I closed my eyes and conjured up the sound of the ocean lapping at the shore, trying to empty my head of everything, including her—_especially_ her. It would be difficult with the way she was pressed up against me, but I would do it somehow. I _had_ to do it. I couldn't ruin this. She had been through too much only a short time ago, and I couldn't help but wonder what it was about the 2012 attacks that brought all this on. I wouldn't ask her though. It wasn't my business.

I shoved my curiosity out of the way and concentrated on the waves as I pictured the stars in the night sky above me, and eventually, it helped to get my dick under my control and all inappropriate thoughts—okay, _most_—wrestled into a cage in my mind that kept them from affecting me. It was a fuckin' miracle, and I didn't know if I would ever be able to do it again … unless Bella had another panic attack and she unintentionally snuggled up to me like this again.

It had taken her thirty minutes altogether to fall asleep, dream, drift across the space between us and drape herself over me. She slept for nearly an hour before she stirred, her heart rate picking up only slightly as it shifted from the evenness of sleep to wakefulness, and when it did, I opened my eyes.

I felt the flutter of her eyelashes against my neck as Bella came into awareness. It was apparent to me when she realized exactly where she was and who she was tangled up with. She froze, and I froze because it was only then that I realized what a disaster this was. Bella was curled up practically on top of me, and she had no way of knowing that she was the one responsible for it. When she got over her shock, she would blame me, throw a shit fit and go in to "castrate Jasper" mode.

_Awesome!_

When she did get over her shock, she scurried backwards out of my arms and just stared, searching my face. Her expression was perplexed and cautious, and I knew she was trying to piece everything together. I waited patiently for her to come to whatever conclusion she may. I tried to tell myself I wouldn't care if she blew up at me and only partially succeeded in convincing myself. It was irritating and confusing and she was taking too fuckin' long to make a decision. The longer she took, the more uneasy I felt … and the harder it was for me to keep up my conviction that I didn't care how she reacted.

"How did we end up like that?" Bella queried. Her voice wasn't sharp or accusing but soft and curious; so was her expression, and I was reminded of my earlier thought about her vulnerability.

If I could project, my relief would have permeated the room, but then I had to actually answer her question. Would she believe me? She didn't really have any reason to. When had I ever given her a reason? And she hated me. _Why_ would she believe me? More importantly, why did I care if she believed me or not?

_Because if the two of you rip each other apart it makes things awkward, dumbass!_ the Major reminded me. For the first time I wondered if he was telling me what I wanted to hear and not what he actually thought, but the Major never did that shit. He _always_ said what he thought. He had no filter. That's just who he was.

"You just sort of ... shifted after you fell asleep," I responded, my tone quiet.

"Oh," Bella said simply. I expected her to say more, to call bullshit or to spout off something biting or sarcastic. It threw me off when she didn't. "Why didn't you wake me?"

I could discern her confusion clearly, which was odd. Bella was hardly ever an open book for me … except for that haunted quality in her eyes, but haunted was haunted. It wasn't an emotion. It was the remnants of a hurricane of them—a compilation of shit that took up residence in your soul and wouldn't scrub clean. Haunted didn't tell you what put it there; all it told you was that something horrific had happened to the person whose eyes you were looking in to.

I decided to tell her the truth. She deserved it, and I didn't have the fortitude at the moment to come up with a lie or a half-truth nor was I in the mood. I scooted backwards and propped myself against her headboard with nonchalance, like I belonged in her bed. If I made a big deal out of this, it would make both of us feel more awkward about it than we already did. I shrugged. "You seemed like you needed it."

"Oh," she said again. Bella didn't seem to know what else to say, and I was glad. I was already struggling enough to give her answers to the simple questions she'd already asked, and I didn't foresee that changing. "How long was I out?"

"A little over an hour," I informed her. "You won't be late for work if you're worried about that." I wanted to shift the focus to something else, to take the edge away from the discomfort of our situation. We both needed that gone.

Bella looked startled again at my mention of work, as if she'd forgotten, and moved off the bed. She stretched languorously and I couldn't peel my eyes away from her. Little movements like those mesmerized me, as much as I wished they didn't, but the atmosphere between us was too strange for it to have its usual effect, and I was grateful.

She began to move passed me, in the direction of her bathroom, like I was no longer there, and I couldn't let her do it. I couldn't watch her walk away from me. She'd done it so many times for so many insignificant things, and I had never liked it for reasons I'd never been able to fathom. But this wasn't an insignificant thing, and I _couldn't_ let her walk away from me this time. Not yet.

I scrambled off her bed and grabbed her arm as gently as I could. My hands guided her to face me without thought, and I momentarily had no idea what to do. I hadn't had a plan when I went after her, other than the need to keep Bella from leaving. She stiffened for an instant and I wondered if I made a mistake, but then she relaxed, and I relaxed and the words flowed out of me as if I'd known what I was going to say all along. Her inquisitive stare spurred me along.

"I can do that part of the project," I said softly. "If you want." My offer was a wholehearted one, one I'd been considering ever since she'd gotten upset the last time. I truly would do anything to keep what had happened today from happening ever again.

Her eyebrows shot up into her hairline. "By yourself?"

Why did everything I do have to surprise her so goddamn much? What had I done to make her think so poorly of me? It was so fuckin' frustrating! I had to force myself not to be offended by it, to remember what she'd been through only an hour or so ago, and that shit like that affected a person's reactions to pretty much everything. It heightened them, put you on edge, made you feel like everyone was out to get you. She seemed always to think I was out to get her. I guess that was even worse now. I had to remind myself to be thankful she'd let me comfort her at all. That was progress, wasn't it? I couldn't expect things to change so drastically in a matter of minutes, could I?

I nodded tentatively, waiting for her answer.

"Why?" Bella questioned warily. She didn't understand why I would help her. It was her mistrust yet again rearing its ugly head. I guess nothing had changed after all, whether she'd let me comfort her or not. Sometimes people needed comfort and were willing to take it wherever they could get it, even if it was from someone they hated. That hurt, and I didn't want it to.

"You're busy catching up in your other classes and keeping up with the current curriculum," I explained, concealing that hurt like the pro I was. "Plus, you've got your job."

She opened her mouth to protest, but I stopped her by tightening my hand on her arm just enough to get her to pause so I could speak. I didn't know exactly how I came across to her in that moment, and I didn't really care. All I knew was I had to make her believe that I meant what I said because that was the only way she would even consider letting me do what I'd requested. I _did_ believe what I was about to say. "I know you're capable of juggling all of it, Bella, but you've done the majority of the work on the paper and the oral presentation. Your outlines are solid, cognizant, and very impressive. You've got great insight, and you're clear and concise. Like you said, you know this shit, and we brainstormed the concept for the media project together. That's really the most important thing. Will you please let me do this?"

Bella nodded immediately, and I didn't stop to question how odd that was. All I was willing to acknowledge was my relief at her easy acquiescence. "Thank you."

My response came out embarrassingly earnest, but I didn't care. I would berate myself for being a pussy later. The Major would too.

Bella nodded again, and I was glad she didn't say anything. I wouldn't have known what to say back. The awkwardness of the situation suddenly amplified tenfold, and I needed to escape her presence more than I'd needed to escape anything in a long while.

"I'll just go now," I said, the awkwardness I felt coming out clear in my tone. That was also embarrassing, and I hated that she could make me embarrassed. I could feel the weight of her gaze as I exited her room, and I wondered if watching me walk away from her ever bothered her the way it bothered me. It was an annoying and unwanted thought that pissed me off. It also didn't matter. Nothing about her mattered. Maybe if I said it enough, that would make it true.

I was so absorbed by the possibility that I didn't hear Bella's footsteps as she closed the distance between us. Her fingers wrapped around my bicep with caution and gentleness. I didn't wait for her to spin me around. I wasn't sure if that was her intention, but I wanted to see her face. Her features were uncertain just as surely as mine were. I figured she would say something, but she didn't. Instead she did something entirely unexpected.

She kissed me on the cheek, stunning me so thoroughly, I couldn't pull away … I couldn't move at all for that matter. Her lips seemed to linger against my skin forever, and I couldn't figure out if I wanted to grab on to her and keep her there or shove her and tell her to stay the fuck away from me. But then she pulled back and met my eyes, and I saw something in them I never expected to see—gratitude. Bella was grateful.

There was another emotion in her eyes I couldn't place, and I didn't know what to make of it either. I didn't have words that wouldn't make me sound like a jackass, so I kept silent. There wasn't really a need for me to speak anyway. After all, what was there to say?

I did the only thing that made sense … I left.

oOo

_Friday, November 5th, 2080_

Three days had passed since Bella's breakdown and things had pretty much gone back to the way they'd always been between us. We pretended the other didn't exist because it was easier. I couldn't say there weren't differences though: Bella no longer stared daggers at me and she no longer made venomous comments either under her breath or loud enough for me to hear. I didn't know what to make of it. Was I relieved or pissed off? I couldn't make heads or tails of it. I had wanted her to like me so our living situation wouldn't be so tense, but I had never wanted to care about her. When she blatantly hated me, that was easier to do. Now, not so much.

It didn't help that there was still an awkwardness between us because of what had happened. Even though Bella was ignoring me, every time I caught her looking my way, there was an air of embarrassment about her that I knew had to do with us ending up in her bed. I would have told her she had nothing to be embarrassed about, but she wasn't the only one who felt weird. At least our mutual uneasiness over the situation wasn't being exacerbated by the others—no one else had been home at the time, so they couldn't give us shit for it, though the majority of that shit would probably be threats against my dick more than anything else.

Alice, Edward and I had just come home from a trip to the grocery store and we'd heard every word of the conversation between Bella, Emmett, Rosalie, Peter and Charlotte. It was Edward and Alice's haste to join that conversation that had us on our way to the kitchen without taking any of those groceries with us.

Of course we had to pretend we hadn't heard any of their conversation, so when Edward took in Bella's backpack, one we'd never seen, he furrowed brows purposely. "Are you headed to the library or something?"

"No," Rosalie answered for her, her tone hostile. "Bella's going on a road trip."

"Where to?" Alice asked with her usual enthusiasm, that emotion washing over me and passing through without taking its usual hold. She was masking her concern over Bella's impending departure well. I had to give her that, but that was Alice.

"To do the world a service," Rosalie said flippantly. "Whatever the fuck that means."

I looked at Bella to see how she reacted to Rose yet again responding for her as well as to what that response was, but she didn't look at me, and since I could only see her profile, I couldn't properly get a read on her expression. I probably wouldn't have been able to anyway. Though her embarrassment wasn't hard to decipher, the rest of her emotions were just as much of a mystery as they'd always been.

As always, Bella went for shock value. I didn't know if she did it on purpose, but she did it often, and when she did, her targets were always the perfect ones to elicit the greatest effect. I would almost say they were strategic, but what seventeen year old knew that much about strategy?

She almost bolted towards Rose, taking our sister by surprise because honestly, why would she approach Rose of all people? Bella threw her arms around her and planted a huge, sloppy, smacking kiss on Rose's cheek, complete with slobber and then danced out of her way before she was forcefully removed from our sister's personal space. Rose's face contorted with disgust and disbelief.

"Oh, Rose," Bella cried dramatically. "I'll miss you too!"

Rose gave Bella a dirty look, and our human waved at her with a cheeky air that made me want to laugh. I restrained myself. Then Bella went around giving hugs to everyone, stopping when she reached me. The awkward tension between us thickened, and she took a step back.

"See ya, Whitlock," she said, smiling wryly. I just watched her, not uttering a word. What was I going to say?

I continued to stare as Bella made her way to the garage and listened as she got in her car and drove away from the house. I wasn't the only one.

I wondered if she was coming back, but I somehow knew that she was. Unlike the others, I was glad she was leaving. I needed her gone for awhile.

oOo

**A/N: **I will see you guys in a couple days! :)

Take care.


	42. Chapter 31 Part 1

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm only borrowing her characters for a little while. The plot and original characters of Longing do belong to me, however. Jasper as the God of War and Peter "just knowing shit" are ideas that belong to Idreamofeddy.

Thank you to my wonderful beta and friend, Laurie Whitlock, my beloved sister/beta/prereader, Shelljayz, and also to the fabulous juliangelus for prereading. The three of you keep me grounded, inspired and also from going insane. Thank you is a poor phrase to express my gratitude. :)

Thank you to all of you who have read, followed, favorited and reviewed my story. I am continuously in awe of the response I've gotten to this story. :)

oOo

_Wednesday, November 18th, 2080_

BPOV

It was 8:15 am and school would be starting in another fifteen minutes. I was waiting by my car, listening to the iPod I'd bought over the weekend and enjoying the solitude before the bell rang. I wasn't looking forward to when I would have to head to history and be confined in an entirely too small space with Jasper. Even though I now knew he hadn't turned me in, he still unnerved me and being in close proximity to him was hard. My desire to make up for my shitty behavior toward him hadn't changed. I just had yet to figure out how I was going to go about it, and until I came up with something, I wanted to keep him at arms length. It was safer.

I normally parked next to Edward's Volvo or any of the other Cullens' cars. I never rode with them because there were days I worked directly after school, and on the days I didn't, driving by myself gave me the perfect chance to get a break from the Cullens; it was still hard for me to spend so much continuous time with so many people even though it had now been a little over three weeks since I'd moved in. Well, it was technically a little less than two and half if I discounted the five days I'd been off taking care of Derek Henry. Those days didn't seem to matter in regard to my adjustment though.

I had gone to the diner at four this morning to help Laurie with the prep for the day. She opened for breakfast at half past five, and I was doing my damnedest to make up for the five days I'd been gone, especially since I had only been working there for ten days when I took off. If I was her, I'd have fired my ass for having the gall to even ask for that much time off so soon after I started, no matter how important I told her it was. Apparently, I was too damn good at my job to let go.

By the time I got to school, there were no spaces available next to the Cullens, but that was okay because I was again feeling the need for some distance. It was becoming more and more difficult not to get attached to them, especially after Emmett comforted me during my breakdown. The realization that Jasper had nothing to do with my arrest, his saving me from my flashbacks and any number of little things done by the others, in spite of how suffocating their continual presence could be, wasn't making it any easier either. I still had nearly three more weeks here, four if I did, in fact, decide not to count my road trip, and I couldn't afford that. I didn't have to stay for that long, of course, but with all the time I'd spent collecting the evidence required to blackmail Connor Jameson and solving Layla's murder, I hadn't exactly experienced the normalcy I'd been hoping for. I had been considering sticking around for longer to make up for that time, but it was looking like it would be a bad idea to prolong things.

The weather in Forks had shifted from merely dreary and rainy to cold, dreary and snowy. It had snowed all through the night, in fact, and the roads and parking lot were covered in snow and ice, some of it black and nearly invisible to the typical human eye. It was because of this ice that I now found myself in another entirely fucked up situation.

Tyler Crowley had hit a patch of that black ice as he rushed into the parking lot, presumably concerned he was going to be late for school, and his improperly weatherproofed tires were now spinning his van out of his control.

I slowed the scenario down in my head the way I'd been trained to do, which allowed for lightning-quick thinking and strategizing, and weighed and measured the best way to get myself the hell out of this.

There were a few ways I could go about it.

The obvious was to use my considerable speed and reflexes to spin out of the way. Another obvious option was to use those abilities to jump up onto the van. Yet another would be to use my strength to stop the van in its tracks. The problem with those options was that in doing any one of those, I would give away that I was not your average teenage girl, and I really didn't want to do that. It was something I had always been able to avoid in the past, and I didn't want to have to end that streak now.

Another option would be to let the van hit me. It wouldn't kill me, after all. Emmett had named me "Storm" before I had given him and the rest of his family something else to call me, but if he was going to compare me to one of the X-Men, the most accurate would have been Wolverine. My bones weren't made of Adamantium but they may as well be. Getting hit by Tyler's van wouldn't break them. All it would cause would be flesh wounds and some bleeding, and with my new found ability to play dead, I could make a graceful exit from Forks by yet again ending up in the morgue and escaping it after a reasonable amount of time had passed. I so did not want to end up in the morgue though. If I ever saw the inside of one of those again while I was still breathing it would be too fucking soon. That option was out.

I was still wavering on what to do and was actually bracing for impact just in case I couldn't get my shit together when something solid as granite bowled me over, landing on top of me with enough force to knock the breath from my lungs. My skull collided viciously with the asphalt, my eyes slamming shut with the impact, but there was no pain, and I didn't see stars or white spots behind my eyelids. Tyler's van skidded above me and whatever had knocked me over, and the sound of ripping and a strange grinding noise flooded my ears while the smell of slightly singed fabric and heated metal filled my nostrils. Then there was the ear-splitting crash of one vehicle slamming into another: shattering glass, the screeching cry of metal on metal, the gruff, crinkling grind of paint flaking off and all the smells that accompanied those things too. Those weren't the only smells permeating the air though. There was rich, sun-warmed leather, nutmeg, newly cut hay, and fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies with an undertone of sunshine, the scent of the air right before it rains and crisp, red apples.

My eyes popped open, and I found myself staring into a very familiar pair of golden ones.

"Jasper?"

oOo

JPOV

The whole thing happened so fast. I don't even remember making the decision to do it. The only thought in my head was, _Don't you fuckin' let her die!_

And then I was there and Bella was underneath me and we were underneath Tyler Crowley's van and she was looking up at me with wide eyes.

"Jasper?"

_Oh shit! _I cursed. _You've really fuckin' done it now, Whitlock._

And yet, I couldn't bring myself to regret it. My family loved this bizarre human girl. I was assaulted by that love via my gift all the time; they would have been devastated by her death, and she had grown on me too, just as I had suspected she would. Still, this was not good. I had spoiled things. We had all known we couldn't keep that we were vampires a secret from her forever, but we had all hoped for more than just over three weeks. Better to know our secret than to be dead, I guess.

"You hit your head." I didn't know what else to say.

"Not hard." She rolled her eyes, sounding exasperated and not taking her potential injuries the least bit serious.

"You're a pain in the ass, Crawfield," I snapped irritably.

Bella smirked, and then her expression turned amused with an undertone of mischief. "You know," she said. "If you wanted to get me underneath you, there are probably a million different ways you could've gone about it, but even I have to admit, saving me from becoming a puddle of Campbell's Chunky Bella was pretty damn smooth, Texas."

It was the first time she'd called me "Texas" since Louisville.

An abrupt laugh escaped me, and I dropped my head into her neck, inhaling deeply. "You are somethin' else, sugar."

"Yes, we've already established that," she said with a chuckle and a shiver. I wondered what that was about.

She remembered.

Then she squirmed, and her body rubbed against mine provocatively.

Despite her comment, it was the first time I registered just how tightly we were pressed together, and for the first time since I'd met her, my body didn't react in an entirely inappropriate way. I was too keyed up from this whole thing, from her near death, to be affected in that way apparently. It was nice. It was also a relief; it would definitely not be appropriate at the moment. It was never appropriate, and it was _always_ uncomfortable as fuck. Plus, there would be absolutely no way for me to hide that shit and that would not be fuckin' cool. That was beside the point though. I was more worried about her than I was about the state of my dick.

"It's not a good idea for you to move, Bella," I said as I met her eyes, my concern showing in my voice.

"I'm fine, Jasper," she insisted, annoyed.

"You hit the ground pretty hard." I was unwilling to give up on this. She might have a spinal injury or something, and anxiety was creeping into me.

"I. Am. Fine."

I scowled. "You are _the_ most stubborn person I have ever fuckin' met. You know that, right?"

"Hello, pot," she replied. "I'm kettle."

"Do you really think now is the time to be flip, Bella?"

"It is _always_ the time to be flip," she said with a smirk. Then she turned serious. "I'm not the only potentially injured person here, Jasper. Are _you_ okay?"

"Of course," I told her immediately.

She rolled her eyes again and reached her hands around to my back. There hadn't been time for me to do anything but push her down and cover her body with mine before it was crushed between Tyler's van and her car. If I had stopped it with brute strength, I would have had to rip the van apart to do it, which wasn't an option if I didn't want to kill Tyler. All I could hope to do, then, was brace myself and prepare to do as much damage control as possible when all this was over. Hell, I would have had to do damage control no matter how I went about saving Bella. I was just lucky the van was high enough off the ground to almost completely accommodate us. Unfortunately, when we'd been swallowed underneath it, my coat had hooked onto something and ripped across the back. My T-shirt had been taken with it, and whatever metal had passed over me had gouged into my flesh, causing a grinding noise.

My skin was unscathed, and I wasn't sure how the hell I was going to explain that once we got out from under here. Bella ran her fingers over that skin, the electricity of her touch tearing across it with a vengeance and coursing through my body in a heartbeat. I hissed at the contact, finally beginning to react the way I would have in any other situation, and prayed she didn't notice. My concern over her well-being hadn't faded any, so I thought of all the horrific ways this could've played out if I hadn't gotten here in time, and my erection died abruptly. I returned my attention to where it should never have strayed from, watching her face as she felt my uninjured back, but it was inscrutable. It was as fuckin' frustrating as always.

"Do you think you can move?" she asked. "Because I would really like you to get off of me now."

I wasn't sure how to take this. I had just saved her life using my vampiric speed, a van had passed over us, her roaming hands had proven to her that I had done damage to it while it had done none to me, I couldn't read her face and now she wanted me to get off of her. Of course, that could have had nothing more to do with anything other than her being uncomfortable with me pinning her to the ground, but I wasn't stupid. That probably had something to do with it, but all the other shit certainly would have had something to do with it too. I would have to worry about that later though.

I scrambled steadily until I managed to do as she'd requested without doing any more damage to my clothes, to Tyler's van or potentially to her if she _was_ hurt. Once I was off of her, I eased out from under the van and into the crowd of anxious, annoying assholes surrounding the accident, angling my torn clothing and unblemished flesh away from prying eyes. Ignoring those assholes, my family stationed several feet away because of the scent of Tyler's blood from whatever injuries he'd incurred because of the accident, I then reached my hand out to Bella to help her do the same. I was expecting her to refuse it, but she didn't. She latched onto it, and in part, allowed me to use my strength to pull her out as well as using me as leverage to help herself. When she emerged she was lugging her messenger bag in her other hand.

As soon as she was on her feet, she turned to me.

"I rescued your messenger bag, Texas," she said. "You don't want to forget it."

My brows furrowed. For starters, why the hell was she so fuckin' worried about my goddamn messenger bag? And second, her's and my bags were damn near identical brown leather, but that bag was hers, not mine. She winked at me and lifted the bag over my head so that the strap hung diagonally across my chest and the bag itself covered the rip in my coat and shirt, hiding my unscathed back. This shocked me, but I kept my damn mouth shut.

After that she disregarded me, which pissed me off, and turned her attention to Tyler. He was conscious but disoriented in the driver's side of his van. He was also bleeding from a cut above his eye, and the smell of his blood was suddenly too much in addition to everything else. Before I could move, Peter and Emmett were there, placing reassuring, not restraining, hands on my biceps. I was appreciative, but I shrugged them off and turned away from the scent of our natural food source on my own. I had worked my ass off to gain control over my bloodlust and hadn't lost it in nearly fifty-one years; I wasn't going to ruin that because some snot-nosed fuck up who should never have been given a fuckin' driver's license in the first place had gone and proved that by almost killing someone. I briefly entertained the idea of ending his worthless existence. He _had_ nearly killed Bella, after all, but I decided against it. There was a good chance I'd just put a fuckin' spotlight on our secret, and I couldn't risk drawing more attention to the family.

When I reached the others, it was clear that Rosalie was furious, despite an infinitesimal smidge of relief, but she held her tongue. I was in for it when she got me alone. Emmett, Edward and Alice took turns throwing their arms around me in gratitude, relief and happiness, and for once, I didn't mind. Charlotte was wrestling to remain ambiguous, but her confusion was overwhelming, and despite her attempts to hide it, there was relief there too. Peter's emotions were the most difficult to read. They were flickering rapidly and unintelligibly, and one look at his face told me he was somewhere else. I didn't know what it meant, but I couldn't worry about that now. Ordinarily, because of the situation, I would tuck that information to the back of my mind, saving it for later, until a more appropriate time came to question him about it, but I didn't have to know everything that went on in his head. Maybe I would let it go for once.

When Bella pulled his door open, Tyler immediately began to whine. "I'm sorry, Bella. I'm so, _so_ sorry!"

"Shut up, Tyler!" Bella chided, taking his face in her hands and observing him keenly. "Did you lose consciousness?"

"I don't think so," he responded distractedly. I suspected he was more concerned with Bella's hands on him than on answering her question accurately.

"What's your full name?" she questioned, moving her index finger and thumb over his right eye, which showed signs of swelling and bruising, and widened his lids. Tyler flinched and tried to pull away. "Stop being a pussy and quit squirming!" she ordered authoritatively. It was the same tone she'd used with me in the alley in Louisville, and Tyler immediately quit struggling. Bella leaned in and peered into his eye closely for several seconds before she let him go and did the same with his other one. "Your name?"

Tyler's brow furrowed, and he winced. Bella's expression turned impatient, so he answered despite his confusion, "Tyler Aaron Crowley."

Next, she gingerly touched her fingers to the cut on his forehead and the surrounding area, probing it lightly. Tyler hissed, shying away from her again, and Bella regarded him sternly. "What did I say about squirming around like a little bitch?"

A sheepish expression crossed Tyler's face. "Sorry," he said, sounding timid.

"What is today's date?" Bella asked.

"November 18th," he answered.

"The year?" Bella was still pressing her fingers to his forehead, but she began widening the surface area of her exploration.

"2080," Tyler answered obediently, still cringing at the pressure of her touch.

As entertaining as his pain was, I couldn't figure out what the hell Bella was doing. Tyler proved he was actually good for something and cleared that up for me.

"What are you doing exactly?" he asked, his curiosity plain.

"Checking your injuries," she answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and that was obvious. What I wanted to know was why. Why wasn't she leaving that to the professionals? She grabbed his hands. "Squeeze," she ordered again. I didn't know if he squeezed them or not because I was standing too far away and there were too many people blocking my view of that particular angle. "If I were to make an educated guess, I'd say you've got a mild concussion, but your skull isn't fractured. Does anything else hurt?"

Tyler frowned but also looked amazed and kind of love struck.

I rolled my eyes. _Asshole!_

"My shoulder is a little sore," he said.

Bella pulled his T-shirt aside, scrutinizing the area, and repeated the process she'd used on his head; he looked like he was in fuckin' heaven, but he winced anyway. That gave me a sick sense of pleasure. I did not like her fuckin' touching him.

"It's not dislocated or broken nor is your collarbone, but they're going to bruise," she informed him. "You're going to be in some pain for a couple weeks, and I suspect you'll have to give up football for a little while, but you don't have to take my word for it. The doctor you see will probably confirm my suspicions."

"How do you know all this?"

_Yes, how do you?_

Bella shrugged noncommittally. I didn't think she ever shrugged any other way.

_"Yeah, how the hell does she know _that_?"_ Emmett wondered curiously through Edward's gift. His tone was slightly awe-struck, and I got it. Everyone in the family was feeling that way.

"_Who the fuck knows? Nothing about this girl adds up!" _Rose sniped impatiently.

Rosalie was right. Nothing about Bella really did make sense.

Sirens indicating the arrival of the ambulance and Sheriff Dwyer sounded in the distance but that distance closed quickly, and they pulled into the parking lot with haste. While they'd managed to do it quickly, they had also managed to do it cautiously, completely avoiding any patches of ice—normal and black—unlike the douche who had taken to yet again hammering Bella with sniveling apologies and promising that his insurance would take care of her car. It made me grit my teeth. My hands itched to wrap around his throat and squeeze.

As soon as the paramedics and the Police Chief stepped on scene, Principal Greene ushered all the students not involved in the accident to class, including a very reluctant Emmett, Rosalie, Edward, Alice, Peter and Charlotte, leaving Bella, Tyler and I alone in the parking lot with the medical professionals and Police Chief Dwyer. Since Tyler seemed to be in the worst shape, he was checked out first. This irritated the shit out of me; Bella was the one who'd been nearly crushed by a fuckin' van. Another paramedic attempted to move on to me, and in my agitation, I was only semi-prepared to handle the situation, but Bella stepped in.

"Oh," she chimed in with a charming smile that made the male paramedic's heart rate speed up. "Jasper's just here for moral support, sir." Then she grabbed my hand and squeezed it, shifting her smile to me. "He only helped me after the accident happened. He wasn't actually involved."

I kept my face neutral as I tried to figure out why Bella was bailing my ass out, but then decided it didn't matter. I was just relieved that I'd dodged a bullet and also that skipping me meant he was moving on to her. Still, I could have bailed my own ass out. I didn't need her to do it for me.

The paramedic bought it without question, and if anyone was asked, no one could dispute it. I hadn't been by Bella's side when the van crashed into her car, and now that I reflected back on it, people's emotions indicated that they had been so focused on the crash itself, we could easily sell that I slipped underneath the van after the fact to see if she was okay and to help her get out. People were stupid and we were pretty; they would eat up whatever we fed them.

The paramedic checked Bella out next and didn't find anything physically wrong with her, which was really fuckin' abnormal because I had heard how hard her head hit the pavement. She should have had a concussion at the very least, and I didn't trust that the guy was right. He was practically a child, which meant his experience was limited. He could have missed something. He did seem to recognize this, and he initially insisted she go to the hospital, but she managed to charm him out of it. I did not approve, and I tried to intimidate him into changing his mind. Unfortunately, the asshole was too smitten with Bella to listen to me, and the only way I could have snapped him out of it was to start snapping bones, which would have been frowned upon. That didn't mean I didn't still want to, but I had just saved Bella from getting crushed by a van in a way that had to have her mind churning with a million questions, and snapping the paramedic's bones with the flick of my wrist would only add to them. Needless to say, I was now entertaining fantasies of ripping his fuckin' throat out later. I would if he had missed something and she suffered for it.

Tyler, on the other hand, was not given the option of skipping out on the hospital and was carted off minutes later.

Once the ambulance turned out of the parking lot, Sheriff Dwyer got Bella's account of things, which was very brief. After that he left. The whole process had taken twenty-five minutes.

As soon as his patrol car disappeared down the street, Bella about-faced and started heading toward the school.

I reached out and grabbed her arm, jerking her gently around to face me. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To history," she said as if I was a complete idiot, yanking her arm from my grasp.

"The hell you are," I spat. "We're going home." If she wasn't going to the hospital, she _was_ going back to the house to rest.

"_You_ can go home if you want, but _I_ am going to history," she repeated stubbornly.

"Bella ..." I warned, my anger flaring and my back going ramrod straight. My jaw clenched as well, and my teeth ground together.

"It's adorable that you think you have a say, Whitlock," Bella said in amusement with an undertone of annoyance.

"You were just in an accident!" I yelled in exasperation.

"And the paramedic cleared me," she reminded me impatiently.

"Because you batted your fuckin' eyelashes at him!"

She smirked. "That had nothing to do with it, Jasper," she insisted, though her tone clearly told me she knew better. "I'm fine."

I glared at her, my eyes shifting from gold to black. I didn't know why, but I could always feel it when they did.

"If you're so fucking concerned about my health you could always come to history _with_ me," she suggested.

I stalked forward, forcing her back against the unruined side of Tyler's van, caging her in with one arm on either side of her head. The faint scent of arousal assaulted my nose, but I smelled that coming off of her from time to time, which drove me fuckin' crazy. She was a seventeen year old girl, so that was normal, and I definitely remembered that she liked being pushed up against things. I doubted it had anything to do with me, and I was too pissed off to give it much thought. The scent disappeared before I would have been able to think much on it anyway.

"Or," I said darkly. "I could throw you over my shoulder and take you to Carlisle right fuckin' now, whether that's what you want or not."

I was so furious I could hardly see straight. Why did she not take her safety seriously? I had half a mind to run her over with my own damn car. I needed to know that she wasn't hurt. She should have needed to know it too. The jumble of emotions threatening to overtake me because of all this were too twisted together for me to identify, and I was so close to losing it.

"You really like to pin girls up against things," Bella noted angrily. She made no move to get free of me though.

_Just you, sugar. Just you, _a voice in my head that was neither mine nor the Major's echoed.

"You seemed more inclined to listen to reason the last time I did, _sugar_," I said, still glowering at her.

"You're memory is faulty," she replied as she crossed her arms over her chest. "And you don't intimidate me, so this shit isn't going to work. I'm fine, and you can't force me to do anything."

"There are plenty of things I can force you to do," I assured her, my tone darkening further. "But I'm not keen on forcin' women to do anything. At this point, however, I wouldn't feel bad about doin' precisely that. You are too damn stubborn for your own good, and you have a fuckin' death wish."

"You are an asshole," Bella growled irritably.

"I know," I agreed. "And it is _so_ much fun."

Bella snorted and ducked out from beneath my arm.

_Damn, she's quick, _I noted.

_Almost too quick,_ the Major observed with obvious confusion and a tint of suspicion. He was rarely ever confused about details like that. Neither was I. It was part of our past and our stellar ability to read people and piece together what they were capable of.

I turned to face her, and she rounded on me, a fierce glare on her lips and the challenge I loved so much blazing in her eyes. At the moment, I did not love it. I hated it. It was frustrating as fuck.

"My name is Bella Crawfield. I'm 17 years old," she practically barked, putting four feet of distance between us. I was tempted to latch on to her, but I restrained myself. She spun back around to face me before she spoke again, "I was born in Oakland, California and raised in Fairfield, also in California. I got my driver's license in Montana. Today is November 18th, 2080. You are Jasper Whitlock, a monumental pain in my ass," she rattled off with confidence. She marched towards me, her steps perfectly even. She twisted at the last moment, twirling behind me and making a grab for her messenger bag. I whirled around after her, the bag swinging just out of her grasp, but she dodged, sidestepped my advance and darted behind me again. She again reached for the bag, but I yet again thwarted her. Her expression clouded over with fury and frustration, but she stopped, took a deep breath and forced herself to relax until the only emotion I could read on her face was annoyance. "My coordination, balance and reflexes are flawless, I'm not dizzy or seeing stars, I'm not confused or feeling foggy, I didn't lose consciousness when I hit my head and I remember every detail of the accident with perfect clarity," she said with a pointed look. "There is nothing wrong with my memory in any other respect, my speech isn't slurred, and I don't feel fatigued. I'm not nauseated, and I'm clearly not vomiting, though if I feel the urge, your shoes are the first thing on my hit list. I also don't have a headache and my ears aren't ringing. I don't have a concussion." She turned her back on me and lifted her sweater over her head to reveal a thin camisole and peeked over her shoulder to meet my eyes. "I'm not bruised, am I?"

"No, but I can't see your whole back," I groused.

Bella, still peeking at me from over her shoulder, rolled her eyes, turned back around and moved until there was only half a foot of space between us. Grabbing my hands, she placed them on the bare skin of her sides just under her camisole. The electricity coursed through my body, engulfing me in fire. I suppressed the shiver that threatened to rip through me and fought hard against all the venom that was currently rushing straight to my dick. I was angry right now, not turned on.

Bella trembled under my hands, and I saw through my peripheral vision that her nipples had hardened. I once again wondered if she could feel the electricity that I could or if her reaction was merely from the chill of the air and the coolness of my touch.

"See for yourself," she invited softly, again turning her back to me and causing my fingers to trail across her skin. Gooseflesh broke out across that soft skin of hers, and I found myself even more desperately wanting to know the cause of it. I ignored it.

_You're pissed, Jasper, _I reminded myself, gritting my teeth and letting my rage resurface. _That's much fuckin' better._

I lifted up the back of her shirt and her flesh was, indeed, flawless. I ran my thumb up her spine, fascinated by the sight of that perfect, creamy expanse. Another tremble wracked her body.

_Goddamn it, Jasper! Get your head out of your ass! You're pissed. _

"You can quit touching me now," Bella told me sharply.

I grudgingly removed my hands from her. She turned away from me again, tugging her camisole back down and putting her sweater on.

"Well?" she demanded impatiently.

"You're not bruised," I admitted reluctantly.

She smirked triumphantly, and I wanted to smack the expression off her face. It took all my self-control not to.

"That doesn't mean shit, Bella," I insisted.

"Of course it does," she argued.

"Why do you always have to argue with everyone?"

"I don't have to argue with everyone," she contradicted. "Just you, and I do it because it's fun. Are we done now? Because if we spend any more time out here sniping at each other, I'm going to miss history altogether."

"There's no talkin' you out of that, is there?" I sighed, still pissed as all hell.

"Nope," she confirmed.

"Fine," I ground out. "But if you're gonna be such a stubborn idiot, I'm comin' to the classes you and I don't have together, and yes, I'm perfectly capable of convincing your teachers to let me," I told her before she could protest. "I can be a smooth bastard when I want to be. They don't stand a chance, and if you so much as sneeze, I _will_ throw you over my shoulder and take you straight to Carlisle. There will be absolutely _nothing_ you can do about it. Not only that, but you're skipping sixth period, goin' home, and Carlisle _will_ check you out then. That is _not _negotiable."

Bella crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. "We'll see about that," she grumbled. "You're a domineering dick, you know? I'm going to class."

"Why are you so eager to go to class when you've got a free pass to skip, especially history?" I demanded suspiciously, unable to resist reaching out and wrapping my fingers around her elbow before she could take off. With the way she was handling our project, I knew it couldn't have been her favorite subject.

Her eyes narrowed in brief fury, flitting down to my hand on her, but then she rolled them. "I did miss three days last week."

"I don't buy that," I said. After everything that had already happened today, I didn't want to see her upset, though it seemed that those feelings were directly connected to the terrorist attacks of 2012 and not what we were currently studying in class. I still worried about it though.

"I do not care what you do or do not buy," she informed me, wrenching her arm out of my grasp. "_Now_ I'm getting my ass to class."

"After you, sugar," I snapped, my voice tight as I waved my arm in a broad, sweeping stroke.

Bella marched off towards the building that housed our history classroom, and I followed behind her.

After a moment, I realized we had a problem. "Wait!" I said, reaching out and pulling her to a stop. "I can't go to history."

The feel of her underneath my fingertips was reassuring, and it was possible she agreed because her posture relaxed the slightest bit. I didn't know what it was about the gesture, but it seemed to break the tension between us. Just like in Louisville, it was almost as though we hadn't been fighting in the first place. I was still irritated, but I was almost _always_ irritated with her, so we were basically back to normal, at least in attitude.

Bella quirked an eyebrow at me.

"My clothes," I reminded her. I moved ahead of her and gestured to my ripped coat and shirt hidden underneath her messenger bag.

"Right," she said with a nod. Her rage seemed to have dissipated some as well. "I guess we're going to the gym first."

My confusion was obvious.

"Shit," she cursed. "You don't have gym, which means you don't have gym clothes. Why is that?" she asked and then shrugged. "Oh, well. That's not really important. We're going there anyway."

Her fingers wrapped around mine, and she dragged me to the boys locker room, peering up and down the hall to make sure no one was coming before she ducked inside, towing me along with her. I wanted to ask her what the hell we were doing but decided against it for now. I was curious.

Bella took a deep breath and went up and down a couple rows of lockers before she stopped at one—Riley Dwyer's by the scent of it—and leaned in close to it. There was the brief scent of a sizzling _something_, but I couldn't place it before it was gone. Then she began twisting the lock, and I got distracted. I didn't realize what she was doing until the pin in the lock clicked in the groove for the first correct number in the combination.

"What the hell, Bella?" I demanded in astonishment. I was surprised, but it was hot as fuck.

"What?" she said, her tone blasé. "I'm a woman of many talents, and you need a shirt, so unless you want to walk the halls of Forks High half-naked for the day, which all the girls at this school certainly would _not_ mind, suck it up and quit bitching."

I grimaced at that thought. I wouldn't mind _her_ seeing me shirtless but the rest of the girls here … fuck no. I crossed my arms over my chest and glowered in spite of the fact that I was seriously impressed.

"I feel like I need to take a long, hot shower and scrub until my skin comes off," I informed her with another shudder.

"Oh, poor baby," she mocked, patting me on the cheek like an infant before returning to the task at hand.

My eyes narrowed, but when she popped the lock open just a second later, my annoyance and revulsion were overshadowed by admiration.

She noticed. "You should see the things I can do with a bobby pin," she bragged with a smirk that had my dick twitching in my pants.

"Given all the things I do know about you and especially the things I don't," I said, "I really don't find that surprising, sugar."

"You don't _know_ anything, and must you _always_ call me that?"

I grinned at her, slow and lazy. "I know plenty about you," I insisted, though not in taunting. My next question, however, was. "And what _should_ I call you?"

"Oh, I don't know," she snapped sarcastically. "My name?"

"Technically, I was callin' you 'sugar' before I knew your name, so really, to me, it might as well be," I responded smugly, leaning casually up against a locker.

"If you want to get technical about things, Texas," she pointed out as she clicked the locker door open and rummaged around in it for a second before coming out with a Forks High School Physical Education Department T-shirt in her hand. She tossed it at my head. "Emmett named me 'Storm' before you ever started calling me 'sugar.'"

Even though I'd known what she was doing, had already seen her pop the lock, I was still so surprised she'd actually done it that I didn't bat the shirt away before it hit me in the face.

She laughed at me, and I liked that it made her smile.

"Yes, but 'Storm' is a stupid name," I said.

"Are you going to put that on or what?" she asked impatiently, gesturing at the shirt as she shut the locker and re-locked the lock.

I smirked. "So eager to get me out of my clothes, Bella?"

She rolled her eyes. "Right, it has _always_ been my goal to get you shirtless. I staged nearly getting hit by a van just so I would have a reason to do exactly that."

I shrugged out of my coat, scowling all the while, and pulled my long-sleeved shirt over my head as I advanced on her, getting in her face so that we were almost nose to nose.

"Don't you fuckin' joke about that!" I growled menacingly.

I expected her to glare right back at me, but she didn't. Her face remained stoic. "Please end your foray into exhibitionism before someone comes in here and catches us. I'm not sure using the 'nearly getting crushed to death' card will get me out of hot water for breaking and entering."

Bella wouldn't get caught for that. There was no proof she'd done it, and we were both ridiculously good at talking our way out of things, so we could easily explain away our presence in the locker room. Did she not like seeing me without a shirt on? That thought was disheartening.

She turned her face away, and I slipped it over my head. I tried not to feel bitter about it but failed miserably.

"Come on," she said as she headed toward the exit. She didn't reach for my hand this time. "There's only ten minutes of class left."

I felt better now that I would be with Bella for the rest of the day. It was going to be boring as hell, but as long as Bella remained fine, I had to admit that I was glad to be staying at school. It would give me a chance to think things over. I needed to come up with a strategy on how to handle Rosalie when we got home, not to mention come up with how I would explain all this shit to the family, which was going to be difficult seeing as how _I_ wasn't entirely sure of what had happened. I could theorize all I wanted about how they would prefer to handle the situation now that Pandora's box was open, but guessing was never a good idea, especially when you didn't have to. I was sure Carlisle had been making plans for it since before he'd brought up the prospect of Bella living with us, but he hadn't shared what those might be. We needed to have a family meeting and with Bella having to work a six hour shift directly after school, which I was certain she would steadfastly refuse to miss, we'd have the time for it. She hadn't asked any questions yet, but she would, and we needed to be prepared. Who the fuck knew what that girl would throw at us?

oOo

**A/N: **The Cullens' secret is out! Well, it almost is. Bella and Jasper yet again engaged in a verbal sparring match, but really, he was attempting to force her in to going to the hospital. That's a serious no-no for her. They still bonded over some breaking and entering. Is their relationship taking a turn? We shall see ...

Thoughts?

Take care until next time. :)


	43. Chapter 31 Part 2

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm only borrowing her characters for a little while. The plot and original characters of Longing do belong to me, however. Jasper as the God of War and Peter "just knowing shit" are ideas that belong to Idreamofeddy.

Thank you to my beloved sister/beta/prereader, Shelljayz, and also to the fabulous juliangelus for prereading. You guys rock! :)

Thank you to all of you who have read, followed, favorited and reviewed my story. :) I was an epic failure at responding to reviews this week, so I'm sorry to any of you who didn't hear from me.

On we go ...

oOo

_Wednesday, November 18th, 2080_

PPOV

Bella was Jasper's mate.

_Well, I'll be damned._

It was about fuckin' time my gift came through for me. It was also about damn time Jasper found his mate. What I didn't understand was why I'd had no clue that his mate was Bella, that she would be here in Forks or that he would find her now. Yes, I had known he couldn't come to spend the summer with Charlotte and me, but I hadn't known why. I knew my gift didn't tell me everything. I was generally okay with that, but I'd always been especially attuned to Jasper. I needed to be for his sake—I sometimes wondered if that was the whole point of me being changed. I also needed to be for Charlotte's and mine. I would think that something as fuckin' monumental as this, I would have _just known_ about, but for some damn reason I hadn't. If I wasn't frustrated before, I sure as hell was now.

Charlotte's hand slipped into mine, the electricity of her touch that was a direct result of the mating bond flowing through me like a wildfire. Without words, she instinctively knew I needed her, the comfort of her skin on mine as well as her quiet, soothing presence surrounding me. Perhaps she'd seen it in my body language or just from how well she knew me after all the years we'd spent together, the tells I had giving me away. Maybe it was the tension I felt drifting through the link of the mating bond. It was probably all of those things. It didn't matter which it was. What mattered was that I needed her, and she was there, just as she always was.

I wanted to tell her what I'd discovered, but I couldn't. Not here. Not where Jasper might hear. He was my brother, both in venom and in arms, my best friend. I couldn't rightfully say it was my place to keep this information from him, no matter what we were to each other, but he could not know what Bella was to him. Not yet. He wasn't ready to know. He wasn't ready for her, and she wasn't ready for him. I knew that because I knew _him_, but I didn't have to know her to pick up on the fact that she was nowhere near ready for what they would eventually have if things worked out.

It had been over a century since Maria and Savannah had fucked with Jasper and thoroughly turned him against the idea of mates, but he was still raw and bleeding over it, and every once in awhile it broke him. Jasper would never admit that he was breakable—everyone had a breaking point, though some never learned what theirs was—not in a million years, but that didn't make it any less true. I had watched him ache over it for as long as I'd known him, from the moment I'd woken a vampire. Charlotte and I were always the ones to pick up the pieces when it happened because the Cullens had no idea just how fucked up he was, and even if they did, they wouldn't have any clue how to go about putting him back together. We were his glue of sorts, but he still had to do most of the work that kept him together. That's why we were there—to make sure he could do that work. Anyone else would have shattered and stayed that way because of what Maria and Savannah had done to him, but he hadn't, _didn't_. It was proof of his incredible strength and will, but despite his strength, he wasn't invincible. Even recognizing his vulnerability, I still wondered if he could hold himself together without us because of that strength and will. I never wanted to find out. Just as there was no life without my Char, there was no life without Jasper. He needed us, whether we were his glue or not, and we needed him.

If Jasper discovered Bella was his mate now, he would fight against the pull as hard as he could. From what I could tell, he already was on a subconscious level. If he found out now, when he wasn't ready, he would run away from her, as fast and as far as he could. He needed to put the pieces together himself, at his own pace, so he could come to terms with it slowly. That was the only way he would be receptive to the idea of being with Bella. That was the only way he wouldn't fight it. Oh, he would still fight it, but he wouldn't fight it so hard that he wouldn't eventually come around; he wouldn't fight it with such stubbornness and animosity that it would make him any more unstable than he already was. That was the only way he wouldn't resent her. It wasn't my gift that was telling me that. I didn't need it to. It was how well I knew him and that I had been there with him through so much.

Bella was his chance at happiness, and if anyone deserved happiness, it was Jasper. No, I couldn't tell him.

That was another decision I had to keep between me and Charlotte. If I allowed Alice to see, she wouldn't be able to keep her damn mouth shut. She had always loved Jasper. She'd once even thought she was _in_ love with him, though she'd always managed to conceal those emotions. Her gift came in handy that way. Once she'd made the decision to do it, it had shown her how. She never had been in love with him, but she'd been naive when she woke to this life alone, and she wanted to love and be loved. Alice had seen in her visions that Jasper needed her—for companionship, acceptance, friendship, comfort, to bring him to the Cullens, the second family he hadn't known would be vital to him. Jasper didn't know he needed her at the time. He rarely knew he needed things. He even more rarely would admit it when he _did_ know, but Alice _had_ known, and she needed to be needed, so she was okay with his ignorance. She had been okay with it for two years before they finally made their way to the Cullens.

I didn't blame her for mistaking those visions as signs that they were mates, and I was grateful to her for not giving him hell when he broke things off with her, but having Edward there, waiting in the wings as her true mate, cushioned the blow, even if she didn't know what Edward was to her at the time. She still loved Jasper in a way that was consuming but sisterly, and she wanted nothing more than his happiness because of all they'd shared. The knowledge that he wasn't happy wasn't something that had ever escaped her. Knowing that his mate was in reach, that she was Bella of all people, would be glorious news to her, making it that much more impossible for her to hold her tongue; she wouldn't approve of the way I planned to handle this.

That was why it was so important that she, and consequently everyone else, didn't find out because I did not give a fuck if she, or they, approved. The fact of the matter was that I knew him better than they did and always would, so there wouldn't be a conversation around the dining room table. I wouldn't listen to what they thought on the matter or take their ideas into account. I did not give a fuck. _I_ knew best what needed to be done if Jasper was to ultimately end up happy, and I did not care if that made me an egomaniacal jackass. In this instance, the Cullens could fuck off. We were doing things my way. They had absolutely no fuckin' say, and I had no qualms about ripping them to pieces to make sure they understood that; my Char would gladly help. Jasper was our priority, his happiness was our priority, and if we had to sacrifice our relationships with people we liked, loved even, to make sure he got it, we damn well fuckin' would. It didn't make us the nicest people, but it made us loyal and honest and realistic. That was one of the unsavory rules of survival you had to play by, not only to keep yourself alive but to protect the people you loved, and we unquestionably, fiercely loved Jasper with everything we were. You learned to pick and choose who you valued more and what you were willing to do if those that didn't make the cut got in the way. After that, you had to learn to live with yourself and the things you did to those people to ensure your own survival. It was never easy, but it got eas_ier_. It was an awful thing to admit, but in the world Charlotte, Jasper and I had "grown up" in, it was reality, it was truth, it was _life_. You lived by it or you died by it. If you didn't acknowledge or accept that truth, you died _because _of it. I loved the Cullen family, but if it came down to a choice between them and Jasper, they wouldn't make the cut. That reality filled me with genuine sadness. It would probably be the most difficult thing I would ever have to learn to live with, but when you'd lived through a decades-long war, you picked up and moved on, no matter how hard and painful that might be to do. It was what it was though; there was no changing it—not for us, not after so long. I hoped, I _prayed_, that Charlotte and I were never put in a position where we had to choose.

I squeezed Charlotte's hand. I would be whisking her away later to break the news that Bella was Jasper's mate to her, and I knew she was going to have mixed feelings about it. She had always been savagely protective of Jasper, even more than I was, and it seemed only to grow in its intensity as the years passed. We'd never discussed it, but I knew it stemmed from more than just her immeasurable love for him. It was also spawned by guilt over how much she'd hated him and longed to see him burn when she was first changed, even though she had nothing to feel guilty for. If I didn't have the gift of "just knowing shit," I wouldn't have had a damn clue there was anything more to Jasper than the Major, and eventually the God of War, and I would have wanted the fucker dead too. If I wasn't gifted, he would have ended my second life when my newborn year was up, so I got where she'd been coming from then. I'd be lying if I said there weren't times when I'd hated Jasper too—I had made it my mission to save him, knowing it wouldn't be a pleasant one, and I loved the guy, but I didn't enjoy the kind of pain and punishment he dished out. Plus, I preferred that kind of shit to come from someone with tits and a pussy. Even with those trappings, I wouldn't have found his brand of pain enticing and that's saying something.

Before the time came for me to take my Char away to tell her everything, I would be alone in the potential shitstorm of my revelations, and I would have to be really fuckin' careful around Jasper today, though I doubted he'd have much attention to spare for me. Once his worry over Bella's safety faded, that would change, and I _definitely_ couldn't let my guard down around him after that. Charlotte wouldn't be able to either. His control was balanced on the edge of a knife. If he thought we were being dishonest with him, he would fuckin' flip, and he couldn't start asking too many questions. There was still too much of this puzzle that hadn't been solved. I just had no idea how to go about solving it, and if Charlotte and I didn't figure it out soon, things could blow up in all our faces ... the shit would hit the fan. Everything would be ruined.

As frustrated as I was though, I was also happy and fuckin' relieved. After more than two centuries of misery and mooching happiness off of others, which I knew for a fact was a hollow, empty echo of the emotion for him, Jasper finally had a shot at his own. That filled me with such an overwhelming sense of peace that I could hardly contain myself. I wanted to pull Bella out from underneath that van, squeeze her tight and lay one on her. I also wanted to bend her over my knee and paddle her ass, tell her to quit being such a first-class bitch and fall in love with my brother already.

I sighed. _Patience is a virtue,_ I reminded myself, scoffing. Then I steeled myself with a renewed sense of determination. _Eyes on the ball, Peter. Eyes on the fuckin' ball!_

I had to start making plans. Just because I wasn't going to tell Jasper that Bella was his mate didn't mean I wasn't going to do my damndest to help things along if I could. I'd have to be on my A game, be my best, smoothest motherfucker and handle the whole thing with finesse and subtlety, but I would have my Char to lend a hand, and we were sneaky fuckers on our worst days. We were brilliantly, genius sneaky fuckers on our best ones. I didn't have it all worked out yet, but once my Char and I had a game plan, Jasper and Bella wouldn't know what hit 'em.

oOo

JPOV

School had let out for us half an hour ago, and I was now in the woods six miles east of the house with Rosalie, Emmett, Peter and Charlotte. Em was there to police Rose, and Pete and Char were there to keep me in line. I'd been doing a little better on the God of War front, but I was still unstable, and none of us would risk Rose getting hurt.

Edward, Esme and Alice had stayed at the house, knowing too many bodies in what would definitely be a heated situation wasn't a good idea. Carlisle was there examining Bella. I had wanted to stay for that, but I didn't have a good excuse to. I'd already raised enough eyebrows for remaining at Bella's side all day, and I had enough to explain without having to explain why I was sticking around for her check-up too.

We couldn't have our family discussion on matters until Carlisle was finished checking Bella over, and as I'd suspected, if Carlisle gave her a clean bill of health, she was insisting on going to work. Until it came time for the meeting, Rosalie had free reign to rip me a new asshole.

Alice wouldn't be at the family meeting. She had volunteered to keep a covert eye on Bella at the diner while she worked if Carlisle cleared her to as an insurance policy of sorts. We wouldn't doubt Carlisle's diagnosis, but our concern for her well-being still weighed heavily on us and having someone there to watch over her would ease all our minds. Alice was the logical choice because she didn't have to physically be with us at the meeting to _be_ there. Her gift worked just fine when our decisions had nothing to do with Bella. Since we were only figuring out how we were going to tell her about us, those decisions weren't directly connected to her, and Alice's visions would be unhindered. She'd had to get creative since Bella moved in.

"What the hell, Jasper?" Rosalie demanded furiously.

"What was I supposed to do, Rose? Just let the girl nearly everyone in our family loves die?"

"You potentially revealed our secret today, you stupid fuck!" she screeched. I didn't fail to notice she hadn't answered my actual question.

"It's fine," I assured her. "The read I got on everyone's emotions on the scene of the accident suggests they don't suspect anything."

"You're going to have to do a hell of a lot better than 'suggests,' you idiot!" she spat, shoving at me.

I caught her hand before it had a chance to connect and pushed her away from me. She stumbled backward and tripped over a tree root. Emmett caught her before she hit the ground even though she never actually would have. I hadn't pushed her that fuckin' hard; she would have righted herself before any part of her aside from her feet touched the ground.

"Watch it, Jazz," Emmett growled, glaring at me.

I glared back but didn't respond to that.

Charlotte responded for me. "You would be the ones who would be wise to watch it," she said evenly.

I ignored this exchange and returned my sole focus to Rose. "Edward confirmed the same thing with his gift, and Bella covered my ass with the paramedics and Sheriff Dwyer. Everything is goin' to be fine, Rose."

Her scowl went from merely furious to murderous. "You don't know that!" she shouted. Her voice retained its heated quality, but her primary emotions were terror and concern. "We could all be seriously fucked, you stupid asshole!"

"I know you're upset," I said calmly. "I don't blame you, but I strongly advise you to quit insulting my intelligence."

Rosalie huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Are you upset that I nearly outed us to Forks High School or because I outed our secret to Bella?" I asked.

Something wasn't quite adding up here, and I couldn't help but think back on the past few days. Rose's ire toward Bella had calmed considerably ... the ice was in serious danger of melting completely, and I didn't know what had changed between them.

"Are you really asking me that, Jasper?" she demanded incredulously.

I chose not to answer verbally (there was no telling what would come out of my mouth) and nodded instead.

"Both!"

"You're lyin', Rose," I said. If steam could come out of her ears, it would have. "You can't hide the truth from an empath."

She remained obstinately silent, so I decided to go fishing.

"You like Bella," I said with certainty. That much I knew was true, even if she didn't. Whether or not she knew it, the idea pissed her off, so it was a great way to stoke the fire.

Her mouth dropped open. "I. Do. Not!"

"You do!" I crowed, jabbing a finger at her. Her emotions confirmed it.

Rosalie glowered at me. "No, I do _not_ like her," she insisted, but then ... "Fine," she snapped, breaking more quickly than I thought she would. "She's not as bad as I initially thought, and I _would_ like her if she wasn't living with us and could potentially bring about our doom, but she is, and she could ... so I reiterate, _no_, I do _not_ like her."

"Whatever you say," I responded while trying not to sound smug. She really thought she meant those words, but she _did_ like Bella, and from Emmett's emotions, he knew it too. Peter's emotions echoed them all.

"And what about you?" Rose demanded hotly. "You don't like her! You _hate_ her! You fucking voted no, so why the hell would you save her and risk _everything_!"

"Have I ever once actually said I don't like her?" I asked patiently. I'd told myself I hated her plenty, but while it had always been implied, I had never actually said those words to anyone else. Even when other people had said it and I hadn't denied it, I'd still never said them out loud. I hadn't actually confirmed my hatred with any definitive nonverbal gestures of agreement either.

Rosalie's mouth dropped open. Emmett frowned.

"This discussion is gettin' us nowhere, so I'm goin' home," I announced, turning my back on them. I wasn't in the mood to elaborate. "Join me if you want."

Peter and Charlotte flanked me, and we headed back to the house without a word.

Rose and Emmett didn't immediately follow us; she needed time to cool down and collect herself.

oOo

Carlisle had indeed given Bella a clean bill of health, assuring all of us that he could neither hear nor smell any kind of hemorrhage in her brain.

An hour and a half later, after Carlisle had driven her to work, we were gathered around the dining room table with him seated at the head. He had asked for the details of the accident, but he hadn't asked why I'd done it. Apparently, he didn't give a fuck as long as Bella was still alive. I could have kissed him.

"So how are we going to handle this?"

It was Emmett who asked. It probably should have been me since I had made this mess, but I was content letting the others take care of things. I would step in if our asses got in hot water with the Quileutes or The Volturi. I was a soldier, the family protector—that was my allotted role, what I was good at. Sometimes I wondered if that was all I was good at, but that was beside the point. The Major was riding shotgun and fully prepared to kick my ass out of the driver's seat if it was necessary. That was all that mattered.

"There's nothing _to_ handle, Emmett," Carlisle answered firmly. "We knew we most likely wouldn't be able to keep what we are from her indefinitely. It was one of the risks we took, and now that it _has_ happened, we sit her down and tell her everything, just as I said we would when we discussed her moving in."

"That's it?" Rosalie questioned in disbelief.

Carlisle regarded her with his characteristic calm and patience. "Would you rather we lie or play mind games?"

"Well ... no," she answered, bewildered.

"We'll keep it simple and straightforward," he continued. "We'll answer all her questions honestly, and then we'll brace ourselves for the potential fallout."

"Fallout," Esme echoed dejectedly.

Carlisle reached over and took her hand in his. "Yes, dear. We have to prepare for the possibility that we might lose Bella over this."

Venom clouded Esme's eyes and my own took on a glassy sheen that mimicked it when I picked up her emotions. I felt hollow and empty.

The mood in the room turned from nervous and tense to somber and apprehensive.

There was nothing we could do but wait for Bella and Alice to come home from the diner so we could get this shit over with and Bella could put us out of our fuckin' misery.

It was quarter to eight when the phone rang.

It was Carlisle who answered. "Hello?"

_"Hey, Doc." _ It was Bella. She didn't sound any different now that she'd gotten some distance.

"Bella," Carlisle said warmly, no trace of nerves in his tone. "How are you feeling? Is work going well?"

Bella chuckled. _"I'm still feeling fine, Carlisle. You're the one who cleared me, remember? And work is actually why I'm calling. Ellen was supposed to come in for the 6 to 12 shift, but her kid is sick again. Shay can't do it because she had chemo today, Leah is unavailable and I need to make up for the time I took off, so I'm stepping up. I'll be home really late, but I _will _be home,"_ she assured him. _"I'll see you sometime, though I doubt it will be before tomorrow."_

"I know I cleared you, Bella, but I don't think it's a good idea for you to work such a long shift."

"I'm working it anyway," she said stubbornly.

"Alright." He sighed in resignation. Talking reason into her was damn near impossible.

We all sighed with him. We would be holding our breath for longer than we'd supposed.

oOo

True to her word, Bella had come home at quarter after one, which was especially late for a closing shift. She'd gotten a ride from Laurie's husband, Joe, refusing to let one of us come pick her up. I had a mind to tell her to shove her stubbornness up her ass, but considering I had no idea how she would take the news that we were vampires, I figured I should do what I could to stay off her shit list. She had gone straight to bed, ignoring that we'd all been up, as soon as she'd walked through the door.

She had continued to avoid us, not coming downstairs to eat the breakfast sandwich Esme made for her until we left for school. Even then, she'd grabbed it on her way out to Edward's Volvo and spent the entire ride eating it instead of talking according to Edward and Alice. I rode with Emmett, Rose, Pete and Char in Em's Jeep like nothing had changed, even though everything had.

We were currently in Physics, doing some stupid lab that all of us vampires, with the exception of Peter and Charlotte, had done too many damn times. The five of us were all nervous as fuck, and I was picking up just how much Edward and Alice shared in those feelings clear from their Biology classroom. It was grating on me, the tension twisting my stomach up into anxious knots, and I felt like I was on the verge of losing it, God of War style. It had been a little while since I'd nearly attacked anyone. Though the ache had lessened some, it had not gone away, and I was still fuckin' miserable for it. Maybe I shouldn't have come to school today.

Riley was chattering at Bella like a goddamn idiot, but the two of them had made plans to get together to work on a project we'd been assigned to complete with our lab partners. I supposed that was a good sign, but she didn't know we were vampires yet, so that didn't hold much meaning.

When the bell rang, she headed out the door with him, but as the five of us exited, we saw that she was waiting for us, leaned up against the lockers just to the right and across from the classroom.

"Hey, Texas," she called. "You mind walking me to English?"

Okay, apparently she was waiting for me.

"I guess not."

The others gave me meaningful looks as they headed off to our Spanish class, leaving me and Bella alone.

Technically, we should have been going in the same direction since the two classrooms were in the same building, but I let Bella lead, and she took us on an alternate route.

She waited a few beats before she spoke. "So I'm skipping sixth period again," she announced, sounding a little nervous. It was nice to be able to understand what she was feeling for once. "P.E. is an absolutely pointless class. This school's idea of organized team sports is a joke. Organized is actually the last word that should be used to describe their version, and I run, amongst other things, anyway, so it's not like I have to rely on Forks High's pathetic excuse for an athletic program to keep in shape ..."

Bella was rambling. It was fuckin' cute, and I would have teased her for it if not for the seriousness of things to come.

"Bella," I interrupted, very impressively not sounding amused. "Is there a point you're tryin' to make, and are you plannin' on makin' it any time soon? Because this place isn't that big, we'll be at your English class in no time and we only have six minutes between classes."

"Right," she said, and then she did something I wasn't expecting her to do. She blushed. I had only seen her blush at the sight of Emmett's fake cock, which were special circumstances. She'd been caught off guard by that, but this was different because she was unsure of herself and unable to hide it; that was cute too and really fuckin' sexy. I fought off my grin and was surprised when I was successful. "Uh, I was hoping you and I could take a ride on your motorcycle, you know, go somewhere and talk ... you know later, when I skip?"

"Yeah, sure," I agreed, swallowing hard. The image of Bella on my motorcycle ... _Good God!_

We arrived at the English class she shared with Edward and Alice just after that and stood there awkwardly, hovering near the doorway.

"Um, I guess I'll meet you at the cars after class then?" she questioned, fidgeting.

_You're killin' me, Bella!_

"Yeah, I guess."

The bell rang, and we both jumped slightly, the shrill noise taking us by surprise.

She gave me a small wave, and I nodded stoically. Then she turned and ducked into her class, and I hauled "human" ass to Spanish.

It looked like I was going to be giving the "Surprise! We're vampires," speech on my own.

oOo

The feel of Bella's slender hands on my torso had made it really fuckin' difficult to concentrate, but I was a vampire. We were good at multitasking. She'd requested that we go somewhere remote, possibly with water. When I asked her why, she said she found it peaceful.

_How ironic._

I took her to a lone and little used stretch of beach not many knew of. It was one of my favorite places to go when I was feeling especially chaotic and needed to clear my head. I had never brought anyone here before, I'd never had any desire to, but it fit what she'd asked for. Since those were Bella's requirements and this would be a difficult and most likely awkward conversation, I made an exception.

We were sitting on the sand, watching the waves crash against the shore. It was a typical gloomy, Pacific Northwest winter day, overcast and cold, but it hadn't snowed again. Bella was wearing a coat, but it didn't seem thick enough to ward off the bite of the chilly air.

"Are you cold?" I asked. I kept my tone more conversational than concerned. I hated that shit, and I knew she did too, but I didn't want her to think I didn't care at all.

"I'm good," she answered without turning to look at me.

"Alright," I said.

I paused after that. I knew I needed to start this conversation off, but I was hesitant to. It should have been simple enough. Carlisle said to keep things straightforward, something he and everyone else had reminded me of through Edward's gift before Bella and I left.

_Hey, Bella, guess what? We're vampires._

That was simple and straightforward, but it seemed so abrupt. That didn't feel right to me. I certainly wasn't looking to coddle her. She deserved better than that, and it wasn't my style nor would she appreciate it, but I couldn't shake the wrongness of it.

_Why is this so fuckin' hard? _ I didn't know, so I decided to procrastinate.

The silence between us lasted a good half an hour. It would have been companionable if not for my discomfort. I wasn't the only one who looked uncomfortable though. Bella was an even mix of somber and apprehensive, taking turns staring off into the distance and deeply breathing in the salty air and chewing on her bottom lip.

I was so apprehensive I didn't even want to bite it.

I had just about resolved to speak, but she beat me to it. "I owe you an apology."

I frowned in confusion and was about to ask what for when she elaborated without needing a prompt.

"I've been holding you responsible for something you're not responsible for, and I've treated you like shit because of it."

"Oh?" My confusion had only deepened, so I wasn't sure what else to say. I wouldn't push her to give me a more in depth explanation because I knew this was hard for her to get out. After witnessing her grudging apology to her boss in Louisville, it was obvious she found apologies difficult. I would let her go at her own pace. I certainly hadn't been expecting this of all things, but I was going to go with it. It gave me more time to figure out how the hell I was going to tell her we were vampires. Plus, I was curious.

"Yes," she said with a sigh. "It took me a little while to figure out you weren't involved and it shouldn't have. I was just _so_ angry, and I needed to blame someone. Instead of really thinking about it and considering things from all possible angles, I went with the easy target—you," she continued, dropping her head into her hands and running them through her hair. When she finally looked at me, her eyes were genuinely remorseful. "I was wrong, and I'm sorry, Jasper."

"Can I ask what it was you thought I'd done?"

"Uh, no," she refused without hesitation.

"Hey," I protested. "You've been treating me like shit for the past several weeks. The least you can do is tell me what for."

"Fine," she huffed irritably, and then she rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes. "After you left Louisville, I got arrested."

My mouth dropped open.

"What? Why?" I demanded. I was furious, and my worry over telling her about us slipped my mind. Sure, I knew Bella wasn't always a law-abiding citizen but arrested? What the fuck?

Bella smiled wryly. "For violating the Safe Citizens Act."

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?" I asked incredulously.

Bella's laugh was humorless. "Unfortunately, no."

Now that I knew this tidbit of information, her behavior over the last weeks now made a hell of a lot more sense, but I didn't get something. "I'm sorry you were arrested, Bella, but why would you think _I_ had anything to do with it?"

"Because you were the only person in Louisville who knew how old I really was or so I thought, and the police got an anonymous tip literally an hour after I left you in the alley," she said. "And their crowning piece of evidence? A recording of me admitting to you I was only 16."

"Fuck, Bella," I exclaimed, scrubbing my hands over my face and feeling sick over the whole thing. I wished I hadn't left so quickly. I never would have allowed that to happen to her if I'd known. "No wonder you thought I did it. How the hell did you get out of that?"

"I had a good lawyer."

She didn't elaborate further, so I asked another question. "What convinced you I wasn't involved?"

"I'm not sure I ever really believed you were," she admitted. "But it was a bunch of small things." She reached down and began dragging her index finger through the sand. At first I thought she was just raking out random lines, but I soon saw the outline of a horse taking shape. It was the same horse she'd been doodling off and on in the classes we shared. "The popcorn war, letting Alice use you as her Ken doll, helping Esme with the desk, the birthday gift, which was incredibly sweet by the way."

I shrugged. "I have my moments."

"Apparently," she said, her tone amused. Then her voice turned quiet and tinged with sadness. "Thank you for that. It means a lot."

"Like I said, I have my moments."

Bella rolled her eyes but returned to seriousness in an instant. "The history project was another thing ... and the way you were in the alley."

My eyebrows shot up into my hairline, and she dropped her gaze from mine, blushing again. "How could that possibly have convinced you I wasn't responsible? I was kind of a dick."

She chuckled. "You were more than just kind of," she said and scrounged up the courage to look at me again; she abandoned her drawing to focus her attention on our conversation.

I felt a rush of shame overtake me, and I was the one who dropped my eyes this time. "Sorry," I mumbled. "That's something I've been meaning to apologize for for awhile."

"I don't need an apology for that," Bella said. "I wasn't exactly a peach, and you weren't a dick the whole time. If I correctly recall, you tried to give my pathetic virgin ass a way out of the situation, which I didn't _want_ by the way. I didn't think guys did stuff like that," she mused, eyeing me speculatively before moving on. "There was something in your eyes. That something alone should have convinced me, but I was too angry to pay attention."

"Something in my eyes?" I questioned curiously. "What do you mean?"

Bella lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. "Then there was the whole you saving my life thing. Even though I was already certain, that was a pretty big tip off." She paused briefly. "You didn't tell anyone we saw each other in Louisville."

It wasn't a question.

"Because that wouldn't have been awkward at all," I said sarcastically.

"You didn't know you were ever going to see me again."

I snorted. "I was banking on that."

"I would be offended if I hadn't done it for the same reasons," she told me. Now _I_ was a little offended. It was hypocritical but whatever. "That's exactly why I'm surprised you didn't say anything."

"You don't think much of me, do you?" I asked with a raised brow. I didn't want to know the answer to that, so I didn't give her the opportunity to respond. "I don't kiss and tell, though as I'm sure you've figured out, in our house, that doesn't mean much."

Bella shuddered. "Your house is like a nonstop porno."

"Our house," I corrected. "And yes, it is. It's annoying, isn't it?"

"God, yes," she agreed emphatically.

I smiled at that but felt it was time to change the subject. "Who do you think did it?"

"Sharon," she answered immediately.

"Harpy Bitch?"

"Yes." Her certainty was blatant.

A growl rumbled in my chest, but I didn't bother attempting to quell it. Bella gave me a questioning look, and I shrugged noncommittally.

"You're really good at that," she said. At my confused expression, she clarified, "The noncommittal shrugging."

I smirked. "I learned from the master."

The tiniest grin curled the corners of her mouth, and she returned to her sand drawing, which was becoming increasingly more complex. Bella was a phenomenal artist. I could watch her draw her masterpiece in the sand all day.

"Why would she do that, Bella? Sure, she wasn't the nicest person but ..."

"Because of Christian," she answered simply. "Why else?"

"I know she had feelings for the guy but that's taking it a little far." I was practically shaking with fury. "You could have gone to prison or worse."

The thought of either of those befalling Bella was enough to draw out the Major.

_We should hunt the bitch down, Jasper. _

I ignored the voice. Bella and I weren't done talking, and I already had enough to explain without having to explain about my different personas as well. Hunting Sharon down was something I would consider later though. Violating the Safe Citizens Act was an incredibly serious offense. If found guilty, Bella really could have been tossed away in a military prison, never to be seen or heard from again, where she may as well never have existed in the first place and ended up enduring all kinds of cruel and unusual punishment. She could have gotten the fuckin' death penalty. That was un-fucking-acceptable. Sharon _should_ die for that shit ... painfully.

"It would have been the latter," she whispered, and I couldn't tell if she meant to say it out loud. "Sharon and I never got along, and I not only told her off that night, I called her out too. Plus, I'm almost certain she overheard Christian asking me out on a date."

I did try to suppress the growl this time. "Douchebag asked you out, huh?"

"Yep."

"And you said yes." I ground my teeth.

Bella peered at me. "No, I didn't actually."

I released the tension in my jaw and cast a glance at her. "Why not?"

I was curious and something else. I just couldn't put my finger on what that something else was.

She glared. "I fail to see how that is any of your business."

"It's not," I agreed, covering my annoyance and disappointment well. Never knowing whether or not Bella had feelings for Douchebag had always bothered me, but she was right; it wasn't my business. "I'm just curious."

"Christian is seven years older than me," she said. "And I don't date. Why I don't date is none of your business either."

I held my hands up in surrender. "Beyond my curiosity, I don't give a shit."

"Do me a favor?"

"Possibly." I wasn't going to make any promises. She scowled, and I emphasized my gesture of surrender. "I can't make a commitment to a favor until I know what it is."

"Fair enough," Bella conceded easily. "Please don't mention the arrest to anyone. I don't like talking about it. It's kind of a sore subject."

"I can imagine, and sure. I'll keep it to myself."

In all honesty, if it had been me, I wouldn't want to talk about it either, so I would do this for her.

"Thanks," she said, and I could tell she meant it. "So, are we good?"

"Yeah, we're good."

All of a sudden, she jumped to her feet, wrecking her beautiful sand portrait as she rounded to face me. She looked furious, her chest heaving with rage. "Why the hell are you being so nice about this? I treated you badly for weeks and pretty much accused you of turning me in for treason! What is _wrong_ with you?"

I gazed at her evenly for a long while, waiting until her breathing and heart rate returned to normal before I gave her an answer. "You had good reasons for thinking it was me, Bella, and the whole experience couldn't have been pleasant. If I was in your place, I'd have been a bitch to me too."

She settled back down next to me, her fury abruptly deflating, and sighed.

"As damning as it all seemed, you still could have just asked me," I said. "Hell, you could have taken a swing for all I care if it would have cleared things up between us sooner. All the assumptions made things really fuckin' uncomfortable the past couple weeks."

"Making assumptions about you seems to be a bad habit of mine," she said. Her voice turned teasing, "I promise I'll work on it, though I'm not entirely sure you'll know what to do with yourself if I'm nice to you."

I rolled my eyes. "Please," I scoffed. "Like what I do with myself is solely dependant on you."

"There are so many places I could run with that comment," she laughed.

"Perv," I teased.

"Says the guy who pinned me to a wall after seven sentences."

_She remembers how many sentences we exchanged before I pinned her to the wall? How could she possibly remember that? _Why _would she remember that?_

"Says the girl who let me," I came back at her.

"Touché," Bella said, amused but matter-of-fact. She studied me for a moment. "Just so we're clear, that was a one time thing."

"Yes, because I've obviously been _dyin'_ to pick things up where we left them." I said it sarcastically, but I didn't really mean it that way; I just didn't want her to know it. She was still human. It was never a good idea for humans and vampires to mix in that way despite my behavior in Louisville. As far as I knew, she was still a virgin, she still deserved better than me, and it still would have made things awkward. Oh, and there was still the little matter of me being fucked in the head. Plus, she should be with someone who wanted more than I did. It wasn't a decision I was aiming to make for her, but I didn't do relationships … ever, and I could admit that I actually cared about her now; I just wanted more for her. No matter what I wanted for her, she didn't want me, so it worked out.

"I'm sorry for everything, including the things I said to you yesterday after you saved me," she told me again. "I just really hate being told what to do."

"I've noticed, but it's not like what you said isn't true," I told her. Her eyes widened in surprise. "What? I'm not delusional. I know I've got faults. You know, most of the time, you drive me fuckin' crazy. It's not an excuse, but why else do you think I got domineering? Do you not care about your health or safety at all?"

The part about her making me crazy slipped out without my permission, and I wanted to slap myself. At least I didn't mention how or why.

"When I'm not trying to pretend you don't exist, which I do mostly out of respect for your father, driving you crazy is usually my intention," she said honestly, and I snorted. "And I do care about my health. I just don't have to worry about it as much as you think I should."

I didn't understand what that meant, but I wasn't sure how to ask her to explain. Her next statement was contemplative and got us back on track. "No matter what, I know better than to judge people I don't know ... but maybe we could."

I was confused again. I really fuckin' hated that I couldn't read her emotions. "Maybe we could what?"

"Get to know each other," she clarified, looking and sounding shy. This Bella was so different than all the others I'd encountered so far. I hadn't thought there was an unsure bone in the girl's body.

_That just goes to show how clueless you can be, fucker! _I couldn't tell if the voice belonged to the Major or me.

"At least enough so I don't go around making ludicrous assumptions and holding deadly grudges. You have no idea how many times I fantasized about stabbing you in the neck."

"Stabbing me in the neck, hmm?" I asked, unable to mask my amusement this time. "Most girls would have just gone with the standard 'kneeing a guy in the balls' fantasy."

"I'm not most girls."

"You don't say."

She ignored my comment and continued on as if I hadn't said anything. "I am far more creative. If I was going to exact revenge via a guy's balls, I certainly wouldn't go for the mundane. That is just an insult to my intelligence."

"I'm almost afraid to ask," I admitted, which was entirely true. "But what _would_ you do?"

"I'd string you up by them," she said casually.

"I'll take the neck stabbing," I said with a grimace.

"Smart man, but you always did strike me as one," she told me. Then she got to her feet and brushed the sand from her ass. The motion had me mesmerized. She really did have a fantastic ass. "We should get back."

"Wait, seriously?"

She turned back to look at me. "I accomplished what I came out here to accomplish, so yeah."

"You aren't goin' to ask me anything about yesterday?" I questioned incredulously.

"Nope," she replied frankly.

"Why?" I asked, truly confused.

Bella plopped back down next to me and stared at the waves again. "Why should I?"

"A normal person would," I said.

She snorted, a trace of bitterness coloring it. When she spoke though, there was no bitterness to be found. "People keep secrets for all sorts of reasons, Jasper—some good, some bad, some in between. Your family has been nothing but kind to me since I met them, and considering you used whatever your secret is to save my life, I'm inclined to believe your reasons are good ones. Therefore, I don't need to know it. Also, a condition of my living with you is not to pry. I always do my best to hold to the deals I make."

She dropped her eyes to her lap with an emotion I couldn't place, and I wanted to reach out to her but didn't.

"I'm pretty sure that no longer applies," I said with a snort, but she didn't respond. I changed tack. "You're not curious at all?"

Bella moved her gaze to mine. "Oh, I'm curious, but I'm still not going to ask. It's not my business."

"You are a funny girl, Bella Crawfield," I noted.

"There are worse things to be," she said.

"That's true," I agreed. "You know, this is not how I pictured this conversation goin'."

She smiled. "Yeah, well, I enjoy taking people by surprise."

I snorted yet again. "It's one of your many talents." She didn't respond to that, so I asked another question. "Why did you cover for me?"

"Like I said," Bella answered. "People keep secrets for all sorts of reasons. Sometimes they need a little help keeping them is all. I already told you I believe your reasons are the good kind, so why wouldn't I?"

"On occasion, you're kind of amazing," I said, shifting my eyes away from her.

She threw a handful of sand at me. "There's no need to brown nose, Whitlock. You've already convinced me you're not a backstabbing bastard."

"The rest of the time you're an insufferable bitch," I proclaimed with a glare. I could only hold it for a second before it morphed into a reluctant smile, but I'm not sure if she saw it. I was still gazing out at the waves, and I couldn't feel the weight of her eyes on me.

"That's better," she said approvingly. "We really should be getting back."

"Hey, can I ask you another question before we go?" This was an important question, at least to me.

"You can ask," she said with a slight lilt to her voice. The words "doesn't mean I'll answer" were implied. I wasn't surprised. I expected nothing less, in fact.

"Is Bella your real name?"

She gazed at me thoughtfully for several minutes, as though she was torn over whether or not she should reveal that information.

After what felt like forever, her expression filled with resolve. "Yes," she answered. "Bella is my real name."

I nodded at her. "Thanks."

She didn't have to tell me but she did. I kind of felt honored.

Bella rolled her eyes. "Don't get all cocky, Whitlock. You're not special."

There was something about the way she said it ... the words just didn't seem to ring true. She said I wasn't special, but I still felt like I was.

I rolled my eyes right back. "Yeah, well," I echoed. "Neither are you."

She turned away from me in an effort to hide her grin, but she wasn't quick enough.

I got to my feet and brushed off the loose sand stuck to my clothes. Bella did the same, and we headed back to where my bike was parked. As we walked, I couldn't figure out how I felt about her not wanting to know what our secret was. Was it relief? Disappointment? Anxiety? I just didn't know, and I was so tired of not knowing when it came to her. In the grand scheme of things, my confusion over Bella wasn't my biggest problem, so I would live with it just like I lived with so much else.

We really did have to get home.

oOo

As Bella and I walked in from the garage, the family was waiting for us, the uncertainty plain on their faces and in their emotions … everyone's faces except for Peter's, Charlotte's and Emmett's that is. I wondered if Peter _knew_ something. It was because of my distraction over this possibility that I failed to inform the family that Bella didn't want to know what our secret was in time. I was just on the verge of it when Emmett spoke.

"It's pretty awesome that we're vampires, don't you think?" he blurted excitedly.

I didn't know if I was okay with her decision, but I'd had every intention of respecting it. That was blown to high hell now. _Fuckin' Emmett._

Bella's face scrunched. "Vampires?" she mused thoughtfully, though there was no lilt to her voice that suggested it was a question. "Huh."

oOo

**A/N: **And there we have it! Peter's gift came through, and now he's plotting. Ominous or awesome? I believe it will be both, the latter more than the former. ;)

Jasper and Bella talked and cleared some things up. It was about damn time. I know everyone thinks so.

Emmett, Emmett, Emmett ... how I love you and your big mouth. Does anyone else love Em and his big mouth? :)

The Cullens' secret is out! How will Bella respond, do you think? You shall find out in chapter 32, but before that there is an outtake in Charlotte's POV.

Take care until next time! :)


	44. Chapter 31 Part 2 Outtake

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm only borrowing her characters for a little while. The plot and original characters of Longing do belong to me, however. Jasper as the God of War and Peter "just knowing shit" are ideas that belong to Idreamofeddy.

Thank you to Laurie Whitlock, Shelljayz and juliangelus, my betas and prereader. Longing wouldn't be nearly as good without them to help me polish it. I love you guys.

Thank you to everyone who has read, followed, favorited and reviewed this story. You guys rock.

**Posting Schedule Update: **Here's the deal, guys. I am going to be posting every other week for a little while, but it's only temporary. I am currently having an incredibly rough time and have been for a while. I struggle with depression. I have my whole life and it has been kicking my ass of late. I don't know if it is the result of all the other crap I've got going on or if the other crap is a result of the depression. Either way, it has been affecting my ability to concentrate on pretty much everything, including writing, which has slowed down my chapter progress significantly. I still have a few in written in advance, but I am trying to take some pressure off myself because it's not good for me. Unlike before, I'm not taking a break from posting. I don't have writer's block, I haven't stopped writing and I will _not_ stop writing this story. I realize that this is news you probably don't want to hear, and I wish I didn't have to tell it to you, believe me. However, I have to take care of myself, and I am taking steps to do that. As I said, this is only temporary. Once I'm doing better and can get back in to the flow like I was before, I will begin posting once a week again. I hope you can understand.

And now we get a peek into Charlotte's head, which I'm very excited about! I've been waiting for the perfect opportunity to explore her in more depth and thought this was it.

oOo

_Thursday, November 19th, 2080 ... 3:00 am_

CharPOV

Peter and I were deep in the woods, at the waterfall we'd claimed as ours.

After Bella came home from work and went straight to bed, not giving us the opportunity to talk to her about "Van Gate," he'd insisted we go hunting to take our minds off of what was to come because Lord knows we had no fuckin' clue what exactly that was. He had extended an invitation to Jasper, but Jasper had refused, and my mate had looked unsurprised by it. I didn't say a word about that, just took Peter's hand and raced off through the trees as we searched for some nasty ass animal to sate our thirst. He had developed a fondness for moose while I shared Emmett's affinity for bears, though I didn't have a preference for grizzly over any other. I had noticed a difference in flavor, but nothing could compare to the sweetness of human blood, so while bear was what I would choose to drink every time I hunted if given a choice, it still tasted like shit. We both managed to bag our animal of choice before we made it to our final destination.

When Peter broke the news about what Bella was to Jasper, I was so shocked I didn't have words … yet. This information was a huge piece of the puzzle we'd been missing and things made a hell of a lot more sense now, but it wasn't quite the key we were hoping for. There was more to this. There was still a bigger picture that we weren't seeing. I could tell by the look on my mate's face.

I wanted Peter to be wrong about Bella, but that didn't mean I didn't want Jasper to be happy. I wanted that more than anything; it was about damn time he found his mate, but I knew how he felt about them. I wasn't sure Jasper was ready to have that thrust upon him, and I sure as hell didn't think he'd appreciate that _she_ was his mate. _I_ didn't necessarily appreciate that she was his mate.

I couldn't help but like the girl, but most of the time I could hardly keep myself from ripping into her for the way she treated Jasper ... when she wasn't ignoring him that is. The only thing that had kept me from doing it was Peter and his insistence that she could be good for him.

I would do anything if it would do Jasper some good, so I couldn't fuck with her because of that possibility, even if it meant I had to keep my mouth shut while she gave him shit. Normally I would not tolerate that, but Jasper didn't need me to stand up for him. That didn't matter to me though. He and Peter were the most important people in the world to me, and I protected what was mine whether they could do it themselves or not. Not only that but Jasper needed someone to show him he was cherished, that there was someone who would fight for him and love him so fiercely, so unconditionally and without judgment that there was nothing that could ever contain it. It was my job, and Peter's—our mission—to make sure he knew he had people like that in his life, and I would do that job to the best of my ability if it killed me. Pete and I both would and did, though it hadn't killed us yet. I didn't think it ever would—Jasper would die for us just as surely as we would for him. That didn't mean Jasper himself was a job or obligation. I enjoyed making him feel loved and so did Peter. It made us happy.

Jasper would be resistant to the idea of his mate showing up, no matter who his mate turned out to be given his past, so all this would be a hard sell.

"Please tell me you're kiddin'," I begged.

"I'm sorry, darlin'. I'm not," Peter said. I knew he was sorry but not because of who Jasper's mate was. He was sorry because I was uncertain. "I know you don't like it, Charlotte, but if you think about it, she's kind of perfect for him."

I huffed. I knew that Bella wasn't afraid of Jasper, that she wasn't shy about giving him shit and handing him his ass and that she challenged him. He responded to her in a way I'd never seen before, so that did make her kind of perfect for him, but that just didn't quite penetrate my doubts over it.

"I just … I don't want her to hurt him," I admitted, venom pooling in my eyes. Jasper had been hurt enough, and I didn't trust that Bella wouldn't add to his pain.

Things between them while they were underneath the van were cordial but that didn't automatically change things. Bella had made it very clear over the last weeks that she hated him, which was odd. Maybe it was because she was human, I don't know. It's supposed to be impossible for mates to hate each other. They feel the pull, it brings them together, they fall in love and that's that. There's never supposed to be hate between them but a vampire/human mated pair was rare. Ultimately, it didn't really matter why she hated him. I would _not_ let her hurt him.

"I know, sugar." Peter took me in his arms and pressed a kiss to my temple. His touch was gentle, soothing. It was exactly what I needed, but it didn't dispel my unease completely. "I don't want that either, but it'll be awhile yet before they're in that position."

I twisted in his arms and met his gaze, raising my eyebrows in question.

He smiled at me. "You know how the Major feels about mates, so we're not gonna mention anything about this new development to him."

I sighed in relief.

"He's got to figure out what she is to him on his own if he's ever goin' to accept it," he continued.

Peter sure as hell was right about that. "That doesn't explain why it will be awhile before they'll be in a position for her to be able to hurt him," I pointed out.

"We don't know if she's goin' to hurt him, but they're still keepin' each other at arms length, which does, at least, minimize the possibility of emotional damage. The bottom line is, they're not ready for each other," he explained. "Jasper, I think, is gettin' there, but Bella's goin' to take a bit longer."

"What do you mean 'Jasper is gettin' there,' babe?" I demanded. How could he so easily dismiss all the things our brother had gone through? And how could it possibly take a human girl longer to fall in love with Jasper than it would for him to fall in love with her? That idea was preposterous. He was a wonderful, if fucked up, man. Any woman would be lucky to have him, and countless women, vampire and human alike, had fallen in love with him over the decades, starting with Maria, the woman who was only capable of two emotions: hate and bitterness. That proved me right a million times over.

"Because now that we know what they are to each other, we can put all their fightin' into the right context," he responded with a smirk that made my insides twist.

"And that context is?"

"Sexual tension, of course," he told me. "They want each other, babe. Think about it. We've been tryin' all this time to figure out why Jasper responds to Bella the way he does. They're mates, and he wants her. That confuses him. He doesn't understand what's goin' on and his confusion is pissin' him off. It's more than that though. I think he's got feelings for her, but I don't think he knows or understands that either. As far as I know, he's never felt anything more for a woman than lust. He won't let himself because he's a soldier, a fighter, a protector. He could never do those last two things for himself when he was with Maria, so he's been doin' 'em ever since he left her. He's had to, and Jasper has never met anyone worth givin' those up for. He doesn't see that Bella is worth it … _yet_, but he will. He does have feelings for her though, deeply buried though they are.

"Bella's a little different. I'm guessin' it's because she's human. That makes it even more confusing for her, I think, which is probably why she's so hostile, and she's young. I may not remember much about my human life, but I do remember that love can knock you on your ass when it takes you by surprise or when you can't entirely figure out what's goin' on. It can be like that at any age but especially at that one since you have no experience with it." I scowled at the thought of Peter with anyone else, even if it was while he was human. He'd had a fiancée when Jasper turned him and it was irrational, but he was _mine_. It didn't matter that I wasn't even born when he was with her—he. was. _mine_. He knew what I was thinking because he _always_ knew, and I suspected he would even if he didn't "just know shit." My mate caressed my cheek in a gesture of comfort before he continued, "What Jasper is feeling is no doubt overwhelming but she's got to be overwhelmed by what she feels too. I imagine the vampire mating bond has got to be an odd thing for a human to feel. They'll figure it out though. They'll both come to the conclusion that they're worth it to each other, that it's worth giving _them_ a shot. They can fight it all they want for now but it's inevitable."

"But what if she's _not_ worth it?" I questioned dubiously as I stepped out of his embrace. I wanted to believe Bella was. I really did.

"You don't believe that," Peter replied certainly.

"Is that something you 'just know'?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied with a tender look.

I didn't want him to look at me tenderly at the moment because he was right, and I didn't want him to be. It didn't change that deep down I knew she was or that I just didn't know if I could trust her with Jasper's heart. Maybe it was just that I didn't _want_ to trust her with it after everything. Was she really good enough for him? Was _any_ woman truly good enough for him? I had my doubts about that, doubts I wasn't even sure the certainty of my mate's gift could quell. In the end, who was good enough for Jasper wasn't something for me to decide. I wouldn't take his choices from him. If he chose Bella, I wouldn't stop him, but I sure as hell _would_ make sure she knew there would be consequences if she broke his heart.

"And the other stuff?"

"No, sweetheart," he said. "I know because I know how Jasper's mind works, because I was there when Maria and Savannah made him into the God of War and when Savannah forged the fake mating bond to bind him to that power hungry bitch. I watched that shit for thirty-four years and how as each of those years passed, they progressively fucked him up more and more. I'm right—he cares about Bella, and he wants her. He's not in love with her yet, but he will be. She's just what he needs, Charlotte."

I sighed and nodded. "Alright. What are we gonna do about it?"

"What makes you think we're gonna do anything about it, sugar?"

"Because I know the way your mind works, mate of mine," I reminded him.

"That you do, my Char, that you do." Peter smiled fondly and caressed my cheek. I covered his hand with my own and squeezed. "As I said, we aren't goin' to tell the Major, which means we aren't goin' to tell the Cullens."

"They won't be happy with us when they find out we kept it from them. Neither will Jasper," I said. The Major would probably rip us apart for not telling him.

"Tough shit," he remarked. "Some of them might be able to keep their mouths shut." I read between the lines there and knew he meant Edward and Rosalie with the possibility of Carlisle and Esme. "But they won't be able to control their emotions around him. Jasper will know something's up, and he won't stop until he finds out what it is. There are others who absolutely _won't_ be able to keep their traps closed." Again reading between the lines, Alice and Emmett were the ones who immediately came to mind, but as Peter continued, I knew the next words he spoke were more in regard to Alice than our bear-sized brother. "And those are the ones who won't approve of us keepin' him, _the__m_, in the dark the most. As much as I like the guy and as understanding as he is, we can't take the chance that the Doc won't take the moral high ground and spill the beans if we tell him. Therefore, it's necessary for us to keep this from everyone, not just Jasper."

That was true. Carlisle was an honorable man who held honesty in the utmost esteem. After how his lie to us had tortured him, we couldn't take the risk that he couldn't stomach keeping another secret. There was no way around Peter and I keeping this to ourselves.

"However, that doesn't mean we can't help things along some," he said mysteriously.

"What does that mean, Peter?" I questioned warily. I trusted my mate but this sounded a bit ominous.

"All in good time, my Char," he replied, still in that mysterious tone. "All in good time."

I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest. It seemed I wasn't the only one who had doubts about the other.

"Oh, don't be like that, sugar," he begged, adopting an almost irresistible puppy dog expression. "I'm not tryin' to keep you in the dark on purpose, but the first move has to be mine to come up with and you're struggling enough with this as it is. You need to get right with it, to put whatever misgivings you've got aside and really think about Jasper's happiness because _this_ is his only shot at it, sugar. _She_ is his shot at it. You need to be happy about it before you can really help."

I sighed and bucked up. Peter was right. This wasn't about me. It was about Jasper. He deserved happiness and if Bella was his shot at it, I was all for it, or I _would_ be once I had a little time to digest this information and get over being shell-shocked. I truly did like her better than any other woman Jasper had set his sights on and that included all the nomad friends of ours he'd fucked. Actually, there was one exception: Kate. I really loved Kate, but I didn't know Bella the way I knew Kate. Maybe if I got to know her, I would love her just as much, and I _had_ to love her just as much because Bella was Jasper's _mate_. No matter how long they fought their bond, eventually they wouldn't be able to anymore, and she would be a permanent fixture in all our lives. Things would be awkward if I didn't love her, so I didn't have a choice, but that wasn't it … not really. I truly wanted to love Bella and it wasn't a stretch that I could given how much I'd liked her from the get go, minus my irritation and anger with her for how she treated my brother. I could see myself loving her fiercely … eventually. This whole "Jasper being mated" thing would definitely take some time to get used to, but I would be cautiously happy about it until some of my doubts eased, and then I would be over the fuckin' moon.

Once I got over my shock and misgivings, I would tell Bella I wanted to be friends. That didn't mean I would put up with her shit.

"We _will_ strategize together soon. I promise," Peter assured me, wrapping his hands around the tops of my arms, squeezing gently and giving me another soft, sincere smile. "And I might be comin' up with our first play on my own, but I won't be makin' any moves without you by my side."

I couldn't help but believe him. He never lied to me; he had only kept the truth from me twice, and he'd had legitimate reasons for both even though that didn't completely ease the sting. "Okay, but how are we gonna go about this? You may be comin' up with the first move on your own, but you might as well give me a starting point. That way I can come up with some stuff while you're masterminding a romantic coup."

"Subtlety is the watchword, darlin'," he announced with a grin.

oOo

**A/N: **And there we have it! Charlotte's perspective on things! How do you think things will progress between her and Bella now that Charlotte knows that Bella is Jasper's mate? I would love to know.

Take care everyone. I will see you in two weeks. :)


	45. Chapter 32: The Revelation

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm only borrowing her characters for a little while. The plot and original characters of Longing do belong to me, however. Jasper as the God of War and Peter "just knowing shit" are ideas that belong to Idreamofeddy.

Thank you to Laurie Whitlock, Shelljayz and juliangelus, my betas and prereader. Longing wouldn't be nearly as good without them to help me polish it. I love you guys.

Thank you to everyone who has read, followed, favorited and reviewed this story. You guys rock. Also, thank you for being so supportive of my need to post less often for a little while. It means a lot. :)

This is a chapter I would have split in two, but there was no good place to do it; therefore, you guys are stuck with an extra long one. Damn, I'm sure you're all _so_ annoyed! ;)

Finally, you get to know Bella's reaction to Emmett's accidental revelation! Who's excited?

oOo

_Thursday, November 19th, 2080_

BPOV

"_It's pretty awesome that we're vampires, don't you think?" Emmett blurted excitedly_.

My face scrunched. "Vampires?" I mused thoughtfully. "Huh."

The rest of the Cullens were frowning now. They'd been expecting me to return to the house fully in the know, Jasper having clued me in on all the nitty gritties, but there I was ... still in the dark, and they didn't understand why.

Vampires.

The Cullens were vampires.

_Huh._

I wondered for a moment if this was one of Emmett's practical jokes but his face was open, honest and eager. I couldn't see any untruth in his expression, so I had to consider that he wasn't utterly full of shit.

I had never given much thought to vampires. Sure I'd read books and seen movies and tv shows about them, but I had never once considered that they actually existed. Then again, _I_ existed and _I_ wasn't supposed to, but I was a product of science; they were products of mystical crap and whatnot … _if_ the Cullens were, in fact, vampires. If they were, well … just … wow.

_My life just keeps getting more and more complicated, doesn't it?_

I removed the "filter" from my hearing and focused ... no heartbeats. Not one of the Cullens had a heartbeat.

The Cullens have no heartbeats, the Cullens have no heartbeats, _the Cullens have no fucking heartbeats!_

Putting that little tidbit of information together with everything else I'd observed, I could only come to one conclusion: the Cullens _were_ vampires.

Okay, so they were vampires. Whatever, but how could I not have noticed something as huge as them not having fucking heartbeats? Yes, I muffled that particular sense down to a "normal" human range most of the time, forcing the sheer number of noises and the volume of the noise itself, all of which was overwhelming when mishandled, to an almost subconscious level, ready for me to leaf through if I so chose since there was no way for me to actually block it out. I was still aware of it all but I prioritized it.

I remembered thinking the first time I met them that their house was too quiet. I had chalked it up to faulty hearing caused by exhaustion and starvation from hibernation and the soundproofing I'd quickly figured out they had. Now I realized that, in part, that abnormal silence had to do with the absence of that natural rhythm. The knowledge that the people standing before me had always lacked that vital, alive thumping had always been there, but I had never acknowledged that I had that information. It should have become more difficult to keep that knowledge buried once I moved in, but the Cullens weren't exactly quiet folk. In everyday life, most of them emitted average amounts of noise at reasonable levels but get them together with their significant others, and that included Dr. and Mrs. Cullen, and the volume of their extra curricular _activities_ could eclipse the sound of Times Square on New Years Eve.

Still, I should have recognized that they didn't have heartbeats long before now. Hell, I'd been pressed up against Jasper six fucking times and in Emmett's arms until I cried myself out after my phone call to Kathleen Davidson. My ears had been right fucking there! At chest level!

The reason why I hadn't, until now, left me more than a little unsettled. I had always wanted to believe the Cullens were good people ... well, maybe not people—I couldn't call them people anymore, could I? But good. From the moment Dr. Cullen had asked for my name with curiosity instead of hostility, instead of whipping out his cell phone and dialing 911 as he had threatened the night I had broken into their house, I'd wanted him and his family to be good; I'd wanted it so badly that even when the evidence that one of his children was not had been stacked heavily against him, I still ignored it because if I was being honest with myself, if I had let myself recognize that the Cullens' hearts didn't beat I would have hightailed it as soon as I figured that out. I probably would have killed them first, or tried to, and _then_ hightailed it without ever having given them the chance to prove they were anything but, well ... dead.

Apparently, when I met them, my need for a bit of kindness and how fucked up I was from the hibernation had been enough to allow me to ignore their missing pulses. After that, I suppose my desire for normalcy and to resolve things with Layla was enough to avoid that reality. Denial was a powerful thing and when you could compartmentalize as well as I could, it made a twisted sort of sense. I still felt like a fucking idiot, an idiot who had completely failed at being totally aware of everything around her and adjusting her survival tactics accordingly. I really had been slipping lately. That needed to change. Pronto.

The Cullens were vampires. No matter where my thoughts strayed, my mind came back to this. Strangely enough, I was okay with it. The Cullens were vampires. I was a genetically-engineered super soldier. So fucking what?

I still couldn't judge, and I still didn't want to.

"You didn't tell her?" Alice demanded of Jasper in astonishment, her bell-like voice shooting up an octave, effectively snapping my attention and focus back to the, apparently, nine vampires in the room.

Jasper turned his head and met my eyes, including me so it wasn't as though they were having a conversation about me that I wasn't a part of. He shrugged. "I was going to, but she didn't want to know."

Rosalie, whose crossed arms had dropped limply to her sides, was staring at me with skepticism. _"You didn't want to know?"_

"No," I confirmed. "But that has clearly gone out the window."

Emmett looked downright sad at my confirmation, but Rosalie's expression bore something entirely different. Things had shifted between us in the past several days. She was no longer blatantly hostile towards me, and when she looked at me her eyes weren't nearly as hard or hateful. I didn't know what had changed, unless Emmett blabbed about my breakdown, but he'd promised he wouldn't, especially not to her. Normally, I might have second-guessed that he'd kept that promise, but my gut was telling me that wasn't the case. Instinctively I knew that Emmett wouldn't betray me. I'd had the same instinct about Jasper. It was too bad I hadn't listened to it initially. At the moment, Rosalie was regarding me with something akin to respect. It didn't make sense.

The rest of the family merely appeared confused. They also looked nervous, like they were bracing themselves. The only two besides Jasper that didn't appear to share in those emotions were Peter and Charlotte.

"I would normally suggest we take this to the dining room table since that is where we have all our important discussions, but in this case, I believe it would be better if we moved things to the living room instead," Dr. Cullen said calmly.

_Is he ever _not _calm?_

I just found out he and his family were vampires, and he was acting as though it was something more like that they were closet taxidermists. The guy was unflappable.

"Sure," I agreed easily. "That's fine."

"Would you like tea or something, Bella?" Mrs. Cullen offered, ever the polite hostess. I had learned over the past weeks that when she was anxious her supermom instincts would shift into overdrive.

"Yes, Mrs. Cullen," I said. "Please."

Agreeing was the only way I knew to ease her mind some.

Once we'd all migrated to the living room, I held up my hand to halt everyone before they took seats. Then I started to rearrange furniture. I moved a plush armchair so that its back faced the window. Jasper, Peter and Charlotte caught on to what I was doing and helped me position the couches and other armchairs so they were facing the one in front of the window and curling it around it in a half-circle. I would be sitting in that solitary armchair.

I didn't do it because I was afraid the Cullens would hurt me. I wasn't afraid of them. Aside from my momentary fear of Jasper, I never had been and knowing they were vampires didn't change that. I had done it because it put me in a position of power. It wasn't meant to be a threat but it _was_ meant to send a message. It was a somewhat subtle way of saying, "You may think I'm weaker than you, but I still have some control." It also let me watch all of them, observe their reactions to whatever I might say and the body language that came about as a result and to make eye contact—all things that were necessary to gauge how to move forward under these bizarre circumstances. I may not have believed the Cullens would hurt me, but I had already been lax enough. I would not make that mistake again.

Once that was done, I gestured for everyone to take seats and took my own in my designated armchair. They obeyed my silent command and each one of them watched me as we waited for Mrs. Cullen to return with my tea. I took turns shifting my gaze from one Cullen to the next after devoting several uniform seconds to each, studying them intently as I saw them in a whole new light. I searched for clues, aside from their absent heartbeats, that would have given them away. There were many, of course. I had always known they were different. I just never would have guessed "vampire" of all things.

I didn't get a chance to ruminate on those things as Mrs. Cullen joined us then, a steaming mug of vanilla chai clasped in her hand. I wasn't yet holding it but even from across the room, I could smell that she'd fixed it exactly the way I liked.

When she placed it in my hand, I smiled at her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, dear," she answered and took a seat next to her husband, who had chosen to sit in the seat on the white couch directly across from me.

I didn't mind the terms of endearment so much anymore.

There was a bit of an awkward silence for a moment. I had an inkling the Cullens didn't often speak about what they were. The fact that they'd kept it a secret from me pretty much confirmed that, but I hadn't exactly been forthcoming with my own, so I got it.

"So," I began, deciding just to dive right in. "Vampires. That's interesting and ... unexpected."

Dr. Cullen nodded. "You must have questions."

"Yes, I do," I responded, moving my gaze from him to everyone else as well. "I'm just not sure if I'm going to ask them."

Everyone's brows furrowed and the look on Rosalie's face continued to morph. There was no more respect there than there had been a few minutes ago but there was something else. I just couldn't tell what it was, and I found that unnerving.

"Why not?" Emmett asked, his confusion and disappointment laid bare on his face.

I shrugged. "It's not my business," I answered, repeating what I'd told Jasper as I looked to Carlisle. "And I promised not to ask questions."

Truth be told, I _was_ curious, but I hadn't wanted to know their secret because if I didn't know it, I wouldn't feel obligated to share mine, and I wouldn't feel guilty when I inevitably didn't. The less I knew the better.

"We can hardly hold you to that now, Bella," Dr. Cullen said. "What Jasper did changed things."

I snorted and rolled my eyes. _Everything_ _Jasper does changes things._

I just stared after that, unsure of where to go from there.

"We still won't ask you about your life if that's what you're concerned about," Dr. Cullen assured me.

And that _had_ been a concern of mine but my main one was the aforementioned. They may have been willing to trust me with their secret, but I wasn't willing to do the same. It was probably hypocritical, maybe even ungrateful, but I just didn't trust anyone. Over the last weeks they'd earned that right, but I still didn't. I honestly wasn't sure if I was capable of it, though if I was, the Cullens would be the ones I _could_ put my trust in. Going even further with the whole honesty thing, a good chunk of my reluctance probably stemmed from cowardice. There was also the fact that I was leaving in two weeks, no more than three. I didn't see the point in sharing when our remaining time together was so damn short.

I smiled at him. "You're kind of famous for keeping your promises, so I believe you."

Dr. Cullen smiled back. "You have no idea how happy that makes me, Bella, but I still think the best thing for you is to be well-informed. That isn't me _deciding_ what's best for you, but now that you know what we are, you're in danger. You should understand why and how."

"In danger?"

I was already in danger. I didn't see how being in a little more would make much difference, especially since that danger would be short-lived. I supposed I might as well ask, find out what I had gotten myself into. I had promised myself I wouldn't compromise my safety again while I was here, and vampires or not, I had no intention of leaving the Cullens until my allotted time was up. If I did end up leaving before then, it wouldn't be because of what they were. Plus, telling me everything seemed as though it would ease their minds, and I wanted that. I wasn't supposed to care about them, but I did.

"Yes, unfortunately," Dr. Cullen sighed, "and we genuinely apologize for that. We truly wanted to help you, to give you a loving home, so it was a risk we were willing to take. We'd been hoping for much longer than just shy of four weeks before you discovered the truth."

I was once again truly touched by their determination and desire to help me, though I still didn't understand either.

I couldn't help that there was a part of me that was angry with them for keeping something so big from me, something that would put me in danger, and that they had done it anyway though. On the other hand, my being here wasn't exactly safe for them either. It was another hypocritical thing, but that didn't make the anger dissipate.

My smile turned ironic. "It was only a matter of time, Carlisle. I've known from the moment I met you that you're different," I admitted, including all of the Cullens in that admission. "If I'd had a mind to, I'm sure I would have figured it out awhile ago. My observations certainly pointed to 'vampire' now that I think about it, though not all of them match up with the common stereotypes. I suppose that's to be expected though, since most stereotypes are crap."

Peter grinned. "Please do share these observations, darlin'," he requested in amusement. "I'm _dyin'_ to know."

I bit back my chuckle and cocked an eyebrow at him. "Dying, huh?"

"Umhmm," Peter and Charlotte hummed in agreement.

"We all are," Edward piped up, his own smile mischievous and curious.

"Yep," Emmett chimed in, a similar smile on his face.

"Of course," Alice trilled.

The rest either nodded or observed me keenly to show how much they were interested in knowing.

"You all have pale, cold skin," I began.

I turned to Edward. "The day after I first showed up here, you moved without making hardly a sound."

I looked to Emmett next. "The day I showed up here _again_, when you rushed to the door to keep me from getting bitch slapped by your girlfriend," I smirked at Rosalie and she glared, obviously remembering my insult to her ass, "you moved just a little too fast, and you don't have a pulse. I didn't register it until just now, when you told me what you are, but I remember."

I wasn't going to give the details of how I knew he didn't have a pulse, and I certainly wasn't going to go near how I knew Jasper didn't have a heartbeat with a ten foot pole. They were the only two I'd really gotten close enough to to make that claim without drawing suspicion to my abnormal hearing, but if I had to elaborate on the circumstances of that knowledge, I would rather spill about my little breakdown with Emmett than any of my "situations" with Jasper.

"I've only seen you guys eat twice in total since I've met you. Since most myths intimate that vampires survive solely on blood ...

"Some things that don't fit," I moved my attention to Jasper, "your eyes go from gold to black at the drop of a hat, especially when you're angry," I said, smirking slightly. "And since I am _so_ damn good at pissing you off, I've had many, many opportunities to witness that.

"You can go out in the sun without turning into crispy critters and you don't have fangs, unless they only show right before you feed," I said.

"You all kind of shine a little, did you know that?" I asked rhetorically. The expressions of astonishment on their faces were almost comical. I gestured to Jasper, Peter and Charlotte. "Except for you three. You guys kind of glow."

I didn't mention their scars. I didn't want to be rude.

I swept my eyes over them as a whole. "Those aren't the only things that don't add up: you're all kind of solid in a way that isn't normal, you're unnaturally beautiful, you all smell strangely sweet and you're perfect in a way that shouldn't be possible," I concluded. There was something else I needed to tack on though. "Despite all that, there is one other thing that screams 'vampire.'"

"Which is?" Rosalie snapped impatiently.

"You all give off this vibe."

"Vibe?" Esme queried warily. It was clear my astute observations had most of them unsettled.

Peter and Charlotte looked pleased and self-satisfied, which didn't really make sense.

"This predatory, 'don't fuck with me' vibe," I elaborated, still looking to Esme. "Even you, kind, sweet woman that you are, project it. It's the kind of vibe that raises the hairs on the back of a person's neck. Put all that together with no pulse and 'vampire' isn't a stretch."

Most of them were gaping at me in shock. I guess they hadn't expected me to notice quite so much. Despite their shock, Emmett and Alice were grinning. Esme and Carlisle were looking on at me with fondness. Edward appeared to be slightly bemused but not unhappy. Rosalie, of course, was pissed, her respect having dissipated, but she was kind of impressed in spite of it. Peter and Charlotte continued to look pleased and self-satisfied. Jasper didn't appear to be the least bit surprised. Beyond that, I couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"I'm observant," I said matter-of-factly, answering the question I knew they were all thinking before they had a chance to ask it.

"Most humans are only subconsciously aware of the vibe you mentioned, Bella," Charlotte said. "Some because they're stupid but most because they don't want to be aware and deny it. You have obviously always been aware of it on a conscious level, which is seriously abnormal, so why are you still here with us?"

"I'm not most humans, I guess," I responded, trying to keep so many of the emotions that statement elicited in check and out of my voice. It was difficult which was strange.

"That is an understatement, Bella," Edward said with a snort, his tone teasing.

The tenor of his voice was exactly what I needed to get my shit together. I stuck my tongue out at him playfully, and he gave me an encouraging grin. I managed to grin back and then I felt the heat of Jasper's eyes on me, tearing across my skin. I met his gaze for a moment but the intensity I found there was too much, so I moved my attention back to Charlotte.

"You've always given off that vibe but I've never felt like I was actually in danger from you," I elaborated, unable to keep my eyes from straying back to Jasper. He was the only one who had ever scared me, and I could tell he knew that this was what I was thinking, though I couldn't explain how. "God knows you've had _plenty_ of opportunities to eat me," I said, emphasizing "plenty" and staring pointedly at Carlisle as I did. "And yet, here I am, alive."

I had been bloody, broken and damn easy pickings in Louisville when Carlisle found me. He could have taken advantage of that and finished me off, drinking the rest of the little blood I had left in my body. He'd saved my life instead, and he did stuff similar to that on a daily basis as a doctor. Each member of the Cullen family looked up to and respected Carlisle. They all strove to be like him. None of them would hurt me because _he_ would never hurt me. Even if there wasn't that, I instinctively knew each Cullen was genuinely good, and I didn't believe they _wanted_ to hurt me. That opinion even extended to Rosalie, though there were times when that opinion faltered with her.

"So ask," Jasper said. It was the first time he'd spoken since we'd all settled in the living room.

I would have followed that up with "Ask what?" but I didn't need to. I knew what he meant. "What do you eat ... or drink is the better word, I suppose."

Carlisle was the one who answered. "Our natural food source is human blood, as one might assume," he said. "And the majority of our kind partake in that diet. We, however," he assured me with a proud smile, "do not. Instead, we drink animal blood."

My nose wrinkled. "That has to suck."

For the umpteenth time that day the Cullens looked at me as though I'd grown a second head.

"It's great that you're not down with murdering people because that is all kinds of uncool," I said calmly. "Though I must admit, there are some people the world could do without." Derek Henry and Rafe Jones were prime examples. "But wouldn't drinking animal blood be like the equivalent of vegetarianism in humans? As awesome as it is that you don't chow down on those of the two-legged variety, I don't know what I would do if I couldn't eat meat. Denying yourself what your body naturally craves has got to be hard."

I didn't even think that was an option for me. There were dozens of different things whose DNA had been spliced into one genetic double helix in order to spark my existence. Of those dozens of things, I only knew two for certain: human and feline. Cats were carnivorous creatures. They could not survive on a diet that didn't include animal protein. I didn't know if I was feline enough for that to matter, but I wasn't going to test it. Plus, I liked my burgers and steaks.

"Oh, it is disgusting as all hell, darlin'," Peter drawled, grimacing heavily. "But it gets the job done, and I'm told the taste grows on you." He leaned forward and shielded his mouth behind one hand as though that gave us privacy. When he spoke, his voice was a loud stage whisper, _"I think they lie!"_

He shot me a wink and a grin before he sat back and shot smiles at everyone else. They seemed to know he was joking ... mostly.

"Recent convert?" I guessed with a grin of my own, though it wasn't much of a guess.

"Oh yes, sug," Charlotte responded for the two of them. "Pete and I very much share your belief that the world could do without some people, so for a long time we took it upon ourselves to rid it of them one rapist, drug dealer and other various kind of asshole at a time while simultaneously getting a meal out of it."

"But you don't anymore?" I wondered.

"No, not anymore," Charlotte confirmed. "If we wanted to live here, nixing feeding from humans, no matter how douchey, was part of the deal."

I frowned and was about to inquire how the Cullens could ask that of Peter and Charlotte. It didn't seem like them. Then Jasper spoke up.

"Not a condition of ours," he clarified. "_None_ of us are particularly fond of those types of humans." He stared at me as he said it, as if he needed me to understand how true that was. I gave him a slight nod to show I believed him. "Those that set that condition in place are one of the things you need to know about."

He redirected his attention to Carlisle and I followed suit, my curiosity piqued. Now that I knew they were vampires and that age probably had nothing to do with it, I noted how odd it was that Jasper deferred to him. Jasper wasn't the submissive type. There was no doubt in my mind about that; his presence was too strong, charismatic and dynamic for that, that air of power I'd noticed the first time we'd met only having made a more and more indelible impression on me since, so it made no sense to me.

"Okay," I said, moving my hand in a gesture that was a clear indication for Carlisle to proceed in explaining.

"We aren't the only supernatural creatures living in the Forks area," he said.

A light bulb went off in my head. "It's the Quileutes, isn't it?"

"How do you know _that_?" Rosalie demanded suspiciously, her glare deepening.

"You obviously don't pay attention," I said. I wasn't in the mood for her returned attitude. "I'm observant," I emphasized specifically for her. "And they give off an _other_ vibe just the same as you all do. When I say that, I don't mean that vibe is actually the same but it still screams 'not human.' Of course, until you told me you were vampires, I didn't know that's what that vibe was saying, but now that I do, I can't see it meaning anything else. "

Carlisle chuckled. "You really are quite observant, aren't you?" he asked rhetorically, impressed.

"So what are they?" I queried, intrigued.

"That's not our story to tell," he responded firmly. "Anyway, we, as in Esme, Edward, Rosalie, Emmett and I—Alice and Jasper hadn't joined us yet—first settled in Forks in 1936," he said.

That surprised me. It was difficult for me to imagine the Cullens without Jasper and Alice, but then it was even more difficult for me to picture Jasper without Peter and Charlotte. Yet I _had_ seen him without them. I suddenly found it incredibly hard to refrain from asking how the petite raven-haired beauty and the tall honey-blonde Texan had come to be a part of the family. I didn't need to ask about Peter and Charlotte; it was obvious to me that the two of them and Jasper were a package deal even if they hadn't been together when I'd first met the Cullens, though I did find it curious that the three of them had separated in the first place.

"The Quileutes have been here much longer, for centuries, in fact," Carlisle continued. "Not all the members of their tribe are supernatural creatures. Those members that are are charged with the duty of protecting those that aren't from vampires. As you can imagine, our arrival here was not well-received."

I snorted. "I'll bet," I said. "Their reaction to me when I bought my car from them makes sense now. Hey, do you guys smell to them or something?"

I keenly remembered their wrinkled noses when I walked into Black's Auto Repair & Restoration, and every time I saw Leah, she did the same thing.

"Why would you ask that?" The question came from a miffed Edward.

"They always act like I smell when I see them, and since I spend so much time with you ... Sorry, continue."

"We managed to convince them we don't feed on humans," Carlisle said, heeding my request. "Forks was the perfect place for us to stay for awhile, but it was obvious to us all, particularly in light of their thoughts, that certain concessions would need to be made—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I interrupted. I had to stop him right there. There was every possibility he only meant thoughts and concerns the Quileutes had willingly shared with them on the matter, but there was something about the way he'd said it that suggested something else, and I had to make sure. "What exactly do you mean when you said 'in light of their thoughts?' Because the way you said it almost made it seem as though they didn't share their thoughts on purpose."

"I wasn't sure you would catch that," Carlisle said, and I couldn't tell if he was happy or displeased that I had. I didn't care. "Jasper, would you care to explain?"

Jasper nodded and met my gaze. He watched me for several moments, as he often did, trying to gauge my mood. Then I recalled my promise not to make assumptions.

"What are you hoping to find, Jasper?" I asked him, attempting to convey that I felt no malice for his probing.

"You're hard to read, Bella, and I rarely ever can't get a read on someone," he admitted.

_How fucking ironic._

"I'm just tryin' to anticipate how you might react. It's a habit of mine," Jasper continued.

"Explain away, Texas," I said, using that name in the hope that it would ease his mind. Then I grinned at him. "It's not like I'll string you up by your balls if I don't like what you have to say."

He fought his own grin.

"Oh, God," Rosalie grumbled crossly under her breath. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her roll her eyes.

"I wouldn't put it passed you, sugar," he said seriously, and then he proceeded. "When some humans wake to this life, certain qualities they had while they were alive have been ... _enhanced_, qualities that may or may not have been natural in origin in their human life, though they seemed mundane enough then. Those qualities have morphed into something _more_, into something powerful, into an ability. Those vampires are referred to as gifted."

"So when you said 'in light of their thoughts'," I said, looking back at Carlisle. "What you really mean is that you've got a telepath in the family."

I really watch too much _X-Men_.

I knew right away that the telepath was Edward. All the times he'd looked at me and I'd felt that pressure against my skull—that was Edward reading my mind.

I wanted to curse and scream, jump to my feet and pace but I would not react. Asking the Cullens not to dig in to my past had been a reasonable request at the time and still was, but if I reacted badly to this news, blew it what they would perceive to be out of proportion it would be suspicious and draw attention to my vehemence over it.

I felt betrayed and began to panic. If Edward _had_ read my mind, that meant he knew everything, that most likely every single one of them knew everything, and I was fucked. I had been fucked the moment I'd set foot in the Cullen home. They were liars and I was a fucking idiot.

Part of me wondered if they would actually do anything with the knowledge of my origins. They had yet to mention that they knew, but they could just have been biding their time. At least now that I knew their secret I was on equal footing with them, my knowledge ensuring mutually assured destruction, but I didn't like the idea of destroying other people to save my own ass and there were so many things that just didn't add up. For instance, why would Jasper go to the trouble of saving my life? And that was just one of those things. My brain was on overload with all these thoughts and speculations, and my head was beginning to hurt. When it came down to it though, the greatest part of me couldn't afford to consider that they wouldn't use my secret against me.

"Yes," Jasper said. "That is what Carlisle meant."

"Which one of you is it?" I may have already known but I still needed to ask for their benefit. On the off chance they didn't know about me, how was I supposed to explain how I knew it was Edward?

"It's me," Edward confessed. He didn't even hesitate in his admission and I had expected him to. It was a huge and scary thing to cop to. The guy had bigger cajones than I'd thought.

"And you can read everyone's thoughts," I said. I didn't phrase it as a question.

Edward nodded. "I can also put my thoughts into people's heads, more than one person's at a time if I so choose, which results in something akin to a 3-way telephone conversation, though it isn't limited to three people."

"That's ..." I paused as I took in this information and tried to find the right word to describe how I felt about it, " ... invasive."

"That's the consensus of most. Your thoughts, however, are a mystery to me," he told me, looking me straight in the eyes. They were startlingly honest and there was a vulnerability in his golden orbs I'd never witnessed before as a result of his admission; I believed him.

"What?" I asked. I was beyond relieved but hid it well. The Cullens didn't know. That was wonderful news, but I was confused.

"In all my years as a vampire, I've never met anyone who could naturally block me," he continued. "Until you."

"Oh," I responded dumbly.

"It's very frustrating," he said and I could see that frustration in his expression.

"Forgive me if I can't find it within myself to empathize," I told him with a roll of my eyes and a sarcastic edge to my voice.

"It's funny you should mention that," Jasper cut in.

"How is it funny?" I asked warily. I had a feeling I wasn't going to like his answer.

"I'm an empath," he explained, watching me in that hawk-like way of his that always left me uncomfortable.

"An empath?"

His face was stoic and unreadable, and I had no idea what to expect when he answered. My foreboding multiplied tenfold. I was terribly on edge when he finally put me out of my misery. "I can feel and manipulate the emotions of others."

My mouth dropped open in disbelief as my thoughts drifted back to the alley in Louisville, how I had felt as though he had been pinning me to the wall more with his rage than his arms. I also couldn't help my mind from detouring to how abruptly drawn and consumed I had been by him from the moment I'd laid eyes on him and how I'd continued to struggle to get him out of my head ever since. I thought about how I'd never reacted to anyone the way I'd reacted to him and how I had neither ever known what to make of it nor was ever able to drag myself out of the haze of confusion that reaction caused. I suddenly had an explanation for it all, a way to make it make sense, which was something I desperately needed; I grabbed on to it and held tight, my promise not to make assumptions forgotten.

My eyes narrowed and I directed all the cold fury I was feeling right at him. If any of the others noticed what was happening between us, I was unaware of it. I was too busy plotting ways to string Jasper up by his balls, just the way I'd promised I wouldn't.

"Oh really," I fumed. "_That's_ an interesting little trick."

He sucked in a staccato breath, his spine went ramrod straight and his jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together audibly. Then his eyes went black with fury of his own.

"I do not fuckin' abuse it," he growled dangerously, beginning to tremble in barely contained rage. Peter placed a hand on his forearm. Jasper didn't appear to notice.

Those words snapped me back to reality and I studied him, my eyes meeting his. I got lost in them the way I often did, the world fading away, and all the things that had convinced me he hadn't turned me in passed through my brain in a rush as well as how I'd felt his rage in the alley in Louisville but how I instinctively knew that all the lust that had coursed through me had been mine and mine alone. He wasn't lying. He didn't abuse his gift.

_Damn it!_ I had broken my promise to him not two hours after I'd made it.

_God, I'm such a bitch,_ I chastised myself, feeling thoroughly sick. I hoped he could feel _that_.

My eyes and features softened, and so did his.

"I believe you," I told Jasper sincerely, directing my words and attention solely toward him. They weren't for anyone else and it was important that he knew it. "God, your gift must suck in this house!" I exclaimed, hoping to draw attention away from my imperfect ability to keep promises and to bring some levity. "The marathon porn must drive you crazy."

"Pretty much," he corroborated.

"The Jazzman does just fine in that department," Emmett assured me with a smirk.

I shuddered. I did not want to know anything about Jasper's sex life. I did not _need_ to know anything about Jasper's sex life. The thought of him being with women in that way, and I was certain he'd been with many, made my chest tighten uncomfortably with an emotion I wasn't familiar with. I was abruptly mortified that he could feel whatever that emotion was, that he had been able to feel _everything_ I had ever felt towards him. That was so not fucking cool. I wasn't the religious type but I found myself praying, by some miracle, that I was somehow immune to his gift as well.

Jasper shot a glare in Emmett's direction. "Not appropriate, Emmett."

Emmett held his hands up in a placating gesture. "Sorry. I didn't realize appropriate was a theme we were shooting for. I mean, when has it ever been?"

Jasper looked like he was about to go for Emmett's throat, so I cleared mine loudly and focused on Jasper. "_Can_ you feel my emotions?"

"At first, yes, but not in the way I can with most people," he told me.

"What does that mean?" I asked, still feeling like I wasn't yet out of hot water.

"They flickered," he elaborated. "So fast I couldn't tell what they were. Then, ever since you showed back up in Forks, I can't feel them at all."

_Thank God!_

"Does that happen often?" I asked.

He gazed at me intently. "Never."

"And theirs aren't the only gifts of ours that either don't work on you at all or don't work on you properly." It was Alice who hijacked the conversation this time.

_Not properly or not at all,_ I said to myself. _Awesome!_

My inner tone was sarcastic. It wasn't that I wasn't relieved, but with Edward's admission that he'd never met anyone before me his gift didn't work on and the knowledge that Jasper's gift went haywire around me too made me think it had something to do with what I was and where I came from. That the rest of their gifts didn't work properly on me or at all lent credence to that theory. Yeah, I wasn't a freak at _all. _I never forgot, but I didn't like being reminded.

"You're gifted too?" I questioned wearily, tired out from my previous thoughts but needing to move on. Alice nodded in confirmation. "How many more of you are there, and how common _are_ gifted vampires?"

"Just me," Peter answered, grinning at me like he knew some secret I didn't. Considering all the secrets there was the potential to know, I did not like that one fucking bit. "And gifted vampires are actually fairly rare, despite the greatness you currently find yourself in the presence of."

"Okay, what can the two of you do?" Alright, so I was curious. Sue me.

"I can see the future based on the decisions people make," Alice said. "If someone changes their mind, the vision and the outcome change."

"Oh ... neat?" I responded hesitantly. How was I supposed to know if she considered her gift a blessing or a curse? There were abilities of mine I classified as one or the other and some I had yet to determine which category they belonged in. Alice could be in the same boat and being able to see the future seemed like a terribly complicated and weighty thing to have on one's shoulders; it seemed like a burden.

"Sometimes," she answered.

"And you can't always see my future?" I wanted her answer to be yes. Alice being able to see my future at all compromised my true identity but the idea of knowing for certain if I would ever end up back at Fort Ares and Project Apotheosis was a tempting and comforting notion. Tempting and comforting enough to contemplate the risk of exposing myself.

"I can't see you at all," she said, her frustration just as evident as Edward's.

"Oh," was my brilliant response. It was just as well. It was ridiculous and irresponsible for me to even have considered exposing myself anyway.

"And you?" I asked of Peter. His gift was either all-important or entirely useless, like the ability to predict which football team would win the Super Bowl every year or how to fart the alphabet backwards.

His smile turned sly. "I just know shit," he answered as if this was the most amazing thing ever.

"What the hell does _that_ mean?"

"Pretty much just how it sounds, darlin'," he said. "Shit just comes to me. I don't know where it comes from or why it pops into my noggin but it does, and the shit I _just know_ is never wrong."

I opened my mouth to ask a question, but he answered it before the words even escaped my lips.

"And no, my gift is nothin' like the munchkin's," he responded to my unasked question. Alice growled at the hated nickname and Peter's smile widened at the sound, but he didn't turn to look at her. "The shit I just know isn't subjective and it doesn't change because people are fickle. It's absolute, final, and it's not solely shit that has yet to happen. I can just know shit about a person or an event from the past that no one else would. It's the same for the present. Sometimes I do just know shit about the future, but unlike Ali, I can know about things much further away since what I know isn't dependant on what people decide. However, unlike Ali, I can't go lookin' for answers. I just know shit or I don't. Also, I don't know everything there is to know about everything, but I like to think that I know just enough."

"And you 'just know shit' about me?" I asked, trying not to sound apprehensive. I was only fairly certain I was successful.

Peter shrugged and observed me keenly. "Lately my 'knower' has been on the fritz, so not really," he said. "But it's possible that could change."

"I guess we'll see," I responded nonchalantly.

I really did not like the sound of that. I would have to indiscriminately interrogate him about whether or not proximity increased the probability of him 'just knowing shit' about people. If that was the case, it would make it more difficult for me to convince Jasper that there was more to me than just a cold bitch, which was even more crucial after my bitch moment just minutes ago; I had very little time to do that, and I couldn't waste any of it. Since Peter was constantly at Jasper's side, this was important for me to know. It wasn't only that though. I truly liked Peter, and I wanted to be around him while I could. He made me laugh. I would have to think on ways to interrogate him later though. I needed to get this conversation back on track.

"Now that we've gone way the hell off the beaten path, how about we get back to where we were?" I suggested, glancing at Carlisle. "I believe you were talking about concessions that would need to be made between you and the Quileutes if you wanted to stay in Forks."

"Yes," Carlisle acknowledged. "Because circumstances allowed us to convince the Quileutes not only that we feed from animals but also that we hold firm to it, we were able to form a treaty with the chief of the tribe at the time. The terms of the treaty are that as long as none of us bite any humans either to feed from them or to turn them as well as stay off the Quileute's land, they will not attack us or reveal what we are to humans."

"How do they measure up in comparison to you guys?" I asked. "If a fight did break out between you, who is most likely to win?"

"Oh, sugar, they would put up a good fight," Jasper intoned, smirking. "But in the end, we would annihilate them, I assure you."

"Alright," I said, nodding. "So you've got a treaty with the Natives, and if it came down to it, you'd kick their asses from here to kingdom come," I summarized unnecessarily, not sure why I felt the need. My focus returned to what I felt was a salient point and I found myself needing a pointless confirmation of my suspicions. "You supernatural creatures are territorial beings, aren't you?"

"You have no idea," Edward muttered, shooting a sideways glance at Jasper. I didn't know what that was about, and I had no desire to find out.

"I'm assuming you had to consult with them before you asked me to move in," I commented.

"Actually, no," Carlisle corrected. "I'm sure they would have preferred it if we had, but we chose to inform them after the fact."

"That must have gone over well," I snorted, a vivid image of Paul and his initial reaction to me dancing to the forefront of my mind.

"As well as it could have given the circumstances," Carlisle responded. "But though I pointed out that you shouldn't take our potential to hurt you lightly, I truly don't believe we're a danger to you. We haven't violated the treaty since it came into being and a simple reminder of that fact effectively silenced them on the matter."

"Do they need proof of that? If so, how could you possibly provide it?" Jasper had assured me they would win in a fight, and I believed him with every fiber of my being, his presence and effortless airs of lethality and menace singing it loud and clear, but worry still threaded itself through my veins.

"One thing the original treaty failed to do was extend the terms of it to our time away from the Pacific Northwest," Carlisle explained. "It is something I've never bothered to point out because denying ourselves can be very difficult, as we've already admitted, and Emmett was hardly out of his newborn year when the treaty was formed. I had to ensure that allowances could be made for the possibility of slips, even though it would be nearly impossible for the Quileutes to find out about them. If, somehow, they were to discover any losses of control, there had to be a loophole. We very much enjoy living here in Forks and try to come back every few decades, and dishonesty would make things more difficult between us. Omitting the truth isn't much better but it's more excusable."

I nodded, digesting this. "What else?" I asked, continuing to move along.

"Vampires don't have many laws," Carlisle responded. "At least, not many that are strictly enforced. There's really only one, in fact."

"And that would be?"

"We don't reveal what we are to humans," he said.

My brow furrowed. "I'm not sure I understand what you're saying. If that's the only law you have that's strictly enforced, why did you take me in knowing I would most likely figure out what you are? What happens if you're caught? And who enforces it?"

"Please, Carlisle, explain it to her," Rosalie invited venomously. I suspected that whatever it was he was about to tell me had something to do with why she had always had such a problem with me. I also suspected his answer would be another one I wouldn't like.

"There's what you might call a royal family in the vampire world," Carlisle began. "They are known as the Volturi and they're very old, millennia old. The heads of that family are Aro, Caius and Marcus, and they have an incredibly powerful guard of vampires, a great deal of whom are gifted, to enforce the laws they've come up with. They hail from Volterra, Italy, and it is never a good idea to cross them."

"You didn't answer my question about what happens if you're caught," I said.

"The vampire or vampires guilty have two choices," he finally answered. "The first is to turn the human to whom they've revealed our existence."

He hesitated after that and my feeling of uneasiness returned. Everyone but Peter and Charlotte looked sad at this. Rosalie looked slightly sick. I got it. She didn't want to put up with me for eternity. I wouldn't particularly want to put up with her for eternity either.

"And the second?"

He dropped his gaze to his lap for a moment before he returned it to mine. "The second is to end that human's life. In extreme cases, they even consider ending the lives of the vampire or vampires responsible for the revelation."

The Cullens appeared to be even more devastated by the former disclosure, though I could tell the latter one bothered them too. Rosalie was not so much bothered by my potential death. That kind of pissed me off but I got that too. My presence here put the entire Cullen family at risk, and I didn't know her well, but how much she loved them was clear.

_Shit! _I cursed internally. _No fucking wonder she hates me so much._

My life could also be forfeit if my knowledge of their existence was discovered. I should have been fixated on the latter but it was the former I was having the most trouble with.

I had been fighting for my life for the whole of it. That was nothing new to me, but that wasn't technically the purpose for my existence—fighting for other people was. I had fought for the kids in Louisville and I had done it because I cared to a degree, but mostly I had done it because it was the right thing to do. If I fought for the Cullens, it would be for a whole slew of reasons. If I fought for them, the majority of my reasoning would be because I did genuinely care, even though I wasn't supposed to and tried desperately not to, and not because it was the right thing to do, though it would be. In all likelihood, I would probably just take off to save everyone the trouble, but if I had to fight for them, I would. I still just didn't understand.

I jumped to my feet and began to pace. "Why?" I demanded desperately. "Why would you risk your lives for a girl you barely know? A girl who showed she was hardly anything more than an ungrateful bitch when you first met her? Why? I am not _worth_ this!"

"You are," Jasper said quietly, so quietly I wondered if the words were a figment of my imagination.

"You _are_, Bella," Carlisle stated more strongly, his tone not one to be argued with.

"They're right, sugar," Peter agreed earnestly.

The rest of the family, save Rosalie, uttered various forms of assent. Her expression wasn't nearly as hard as I'd been expecting. It was unreadable.

"You have no idea what you're saying," I whispered, in shock.

And they really didn't. If Project Apotheosis ever found out about the existence of vampires ...

I sank back into my armchair and dropped my head into my hands. I couldn't believe that hadn't crossed my mind until now. It was bad enough when they'd only been _off_ but still human. Being vampires changed things on that front significantly. Maybe I shouldn't wait to leave after all.

"I don't want you to worry about the Volturi, Bella," Carlisle soothed. "We would never force something on you that you don't want, especially turning you, and we would never kill you. Besides, _I'm_ not worried about it. Aro and I are old and good friends. I'm also on good terms with Caius ... well, on as good of terms as one can be. He isn't the most socially graceful person. Marcus doesn't care one way or another about anything, so if they ever do find out about you, I'm confident we'll be able to smooth things over without bloodshed. I wouldn't have made the offer for you to live with us if I thought otherwise. I love my family and care too much about you to have dismissed that concern in favor of potentially putting all our lives at risk. I quite value my eternity and that of my loved ones'."

I believed that, but that wasn't what I was concerned over. I couldn't say that though.

"What does this whole vampire thing entail?" I inquired with interest. If I had more information, I could possibly determine how much danger the Cullens would be in if hunters caught me here and somehow discovered my connection to them as well as what they were. I planned to be long gone before that had the potential to happen, and after all the precautions I'd taken, the chances of it were damn near nil, but it was never a bad thing to be well-informed.

"After yesterday, I'm sure you picked up on the fact that we're fast," Jasper said.

I eyed him with a smile. "I already picked up on that. Emmett wasn't exactly brilliant at hiding it, as I already said. I just didn't know to what degree. Apparently, you also heal very quickly."

He smirked. "If you're referring to my back, sugar, I was never injured in the first place. That unnatural solidity you were talkin' about earlier ... well, we're nearly indestructible."

"Only nearly?"

"The only way we can be killed is if we're ripped apart by another vampire and burned." It was Peter who answered. He didn't seem the least bit concerned or uncomfortable about revealing that to me; as far as he knew, I was nothing but a weak, lowly "human." What possible damage could I do with that information? Why _should_ he be concerned about it?

I nodded distractedly, trying to fit this piece of intelligence into a scenario that might be contradictory. "You have to be ripped apart by another of your kind? It doesn't matter if you're just set on fire?"

"Nope," Peter said. "We're only flammable if our venom has been exposed and that only happens when we've been torn to pieces, generally by one of our kind."

"You can't be set on fire, say, by a grenade launcher or blown up by something else like that?"

"The Volturi have done experiments to test those theories," Carlisle said with disdain. "Those experiments have proven that what Peter says is true. That isn't to say there aren't potentially other things that could do it, but with our speed and reflexes, things like grenade launchers and the like wouldn't actually hit us."

"What happens if you get ripped apart but not burned?" I questioned.

"We can be put back together none the worse for wear with no scars to prove it ever happened as long as we don't use foreign venom to seal the wounds," Charlotte responded. "It's never pleasant but it's bearable, unless you do use foreign venom. That burns like a son of a bitch. Either way, it's not permanently dead, so it's all about the glass bein' half full."

I gave her a nod, wondering if she knew from personal experience just how unpleasant it was, and then looked back to Carlisle. "Okay, so you've got great reflexes. What else?"

"We're incredibly strong," Emmett pitched in smugly, grinning.

"Strong," I noted. "Check."

"Our vision, hearing and sense of smell are greatly enhanced," Edward said next.

"Like, how enhanced?" I asked.

"We can see up to two miles away with an unobstructed view and we have perfect night vision. Our hearing has a similar range and so does our sense of smell. It's particularly sensitive to the scent of blood obviously," he informed me.

I wrinkled my nose at that bit of news but pushed my discomfort with that notion aside.

So far, I hadn't been able to compare my abilities with theirs because Emmett's and Jasper's descriptions of their strength and speed were vague, and Carlisle's description of their reflexes wasn't all that specific either. According to Edward's description though, my senses seemed to be on par with theirs. There _were_ differences though. I could smell the presence of drugs or other unnatural substances in blood but I wasn't particularly sensitive to the scent of blood itself. As far as vision went, the one thing the Cullens didn't have that I did was thermal vision.

"That makes sense. It's gross but it makes sense," I said. "Doesn't my scent bother you? I mean, living with a human can't be easy, especially since you drink animal blood and not what your body really craves."

"It _isn't_ easy," Jasper said. "You smell _really_ good, but it's been easier than we were anticipating."

"Better than most?" I asked, curious.

"Oh, yes," Emmett answered. "It's odd that none of us have tried to drain you considering. We haven't even really been tempted to."

I remembered Jasper's lips on my neck, the feel of his teeth nipping my skin, and shivered. I raised a brow at him. He seemed to understand what I was thinking, and his expression turned sheepish. It amused me.

"Okay, I'm especially not afraid of you now," I said.

"You should never let your guard down despite that information," Carlisle admonished sternly. "We have exceptional control, and though I don't truly believe we are a danger to you, it's still instinctual for us to feed on humans, as you know. Instincts are incredibly difficult to turn off as exceptional as our control may be, and most of us have slipped in the past."

"Alright, alright," I placated, holding my hands up, "noted. Hey, wait! The hearing thing. Is that why you have the soundproofing?"

I had always wondered about the soundproofing. I'd always been grateful and disdainful of it in equal measure, most particularly because it distorted my hearing and left me vulnerable, but I had still wondered.

"How the hell do you know about that?" Rosalie demanded.

I pointed at myself. "Ob-ser-vant," I enunciated extra slow. "When I'm in my bedroom, it's a lot quieter than it is in all the other rooms. It was the same when I was getting ready for Halloween in Alice and Edward's room too. It adds up," I said and then amended myself. "Except for when y'all are gettin' it on," I mimicked Jasper's accent perfectly, shooting him a wink. "Are lungs of steel a vampire thing as well? Because no amount of soundproofing can cloak the sound of any of you having sex. A deaf person could hear that shit."

None of the vampires in the room looked perturbed or even the slightest bit embarrassed by my comment about their sex lives. Well, Esme did ... a little.

"What else?"

"We're smart," Alice continued.

"How smart?" I asked.

"Genius smart with eidetic memories," she answered.

I nodded again. The similarities between us were getting kind of freaky.

"Obviously, as you mentioned, we're unnaturally beautiful," Rosalie chipped in, which was something I hadn't been expecting. "That's so we can draw in our prey. It's also why we smell sweet. Also, if we fed on human blood, our eyes would be red instead of gold, so if you ever come across a vampire with that eye color you'll know to head in the opposite direction. You mentioned that we all kind of shine. Well, you should see us in direct sunlight."

She almost sounded like she cared.

"What do you look like in direct sunlight?"

"We sparkle like a bunch of pansy asses," Emmett grumbled. "It's great for the females of our species," he said, smiling affectionately at Rosalie, "but for the men? Talk about emasculating."

I couldn't help the laugh that escaped my throat. My hand flew up and I slapped it over my mouth, quickly getting ahold of myself. "Sorry."

"I'd be worried if you didn't laugh, sugar," Peter drawled.

I regarded him strangely. "Anything else?"

"We don't sleep," Esme spoke for the first time since handing me my tea.

"Ever?"

"Ever," she confirmed.

Freaki_er_.

My earlier thoughts invaded my brain again.

Project Apotheosis _would_ find a way to capture a vampire. From what I gathered, we were similar, though I wasn't sure I quite compared. Still, we were similar enough. I hadn't stayed at Fort Ares for the majority of my life simply because I was stupidly loyal to my superiors and government or because I didn't know any better, though both were indisputably true. I had also stayed because I had been physically incapable of leaving.

The device the hunters possessed that fucked with my nervous system had different settings and was constantly in use while I was there. I had never known just how strong, fast, or capable I was physically until I escaped because of that device and my creators' need to keep me in check. They'd had to prepare for the possibility that I might truly find the wonders of the outside world more appealing than life on base and want to leave, which if left to my own devices was entirely achievable given the powers they'd endowed me with, and had so devised a way of preventing me from being able to escape. How I'd escaped wasn't a topic I liked to think about.

What concerned me were the similarities between the Cullens and me. They were vampires and dead for all intents and purposes, but they had to have functioning nervous systems on some level. They surely didn't work in the same way that humans' did, mine was somewhat different as well, but I didn't know how else they would be able to hear, see, smell, taste or move if they didn't. It was fair to assume that the device that so excruciatingly incapacitated me could also incapacitate them. What Project Apotheosis wouldn't give to get their hands both on me _and_ vampires.

They would do all kinds of experiments on them. I had been on the receiving end of those experiments for twelve years of my life. I would not allow that to happen to the Cullens. They would also try to turn the Cullens into their soldiers, though that was a laughable and ludicrous concept, but that still wouldn't stop Project Apotheosis from trying.

They would try to find a way to extract vampire DNA and splice it into me. They _would _find a way and that shit was excruciating. All those thoughts caused every drop of blood to drain from my face and made me feel physically ill.

The urge to throw up was overwhelming, and I shot up from my chair, stumbling towards the nearest bathroom. I just barely made it, managing to close and lock the door behind me and drop to my knees in front of the toilet just before the first wave of vomit escaped my mouth. My stomach continued to roil and contract until every last bit of food I'd eaten today was expelled from my body. Then I threw up bile, and after that, I dry heaved until I hurt, which was quite the feat.

At some point, cool hands pulled my hair back behind my shoulders and twisted it into a loose knot at the base of my neck. When I was finally done, I looked up to find Esme at my side, holding a cool washcloth. She wiped at my clammy forehead as Carlisle looked on at the situation with a doctor's eye but a father's concern. It touched me. I threw up again.

When I was once again finished, I felt Jasper's eyes on me and finally had the presence of mind to ask a question.

"How did you get in here?" There was no malice or irritation in it, only curiosity.

"You're not the only one who's good with a bobby pin," Jasper said. Under different circumstances I think he would have grinned at me. Instead, he looked just as concerned as Carlisle.

I gave him a weak smile, extending it to Carlisle and Esme as well. For the first time, I noticed that the others were crowded around the doorway too, almost identical expressions of worry etched onto their faces, even Rosalie's. I spread my smile to them, hoping to ease their minds.

"I need a minute," I proclaimed. My voice came out strained and gravelly, my throat raw from the vomiting but I could already feel it healing. It would be in perfect condition in less than a minute.

They all gave me hesitant nods and left, Esme shutting the bathroom door gently behind her after tenderly wiping my forehead one last time.

I sat there on the floor next to the toilet with my knees pulled against my chest and my arms wrapped around them. I rested my head back against the cool tile of the wall and closed my tired eyes as I contemplated things.

I should leave. I _needed_ to leave. My being here was putting the Cullens in danger. Yes, they had endangered my life too but they had also endangered theirs when they'd taken me in, and they had done it for very generous, almost selfless reasons. They were helping me and getting nothing in return for it. I had moved in fully aware that I could be putting their lives in danger just by their association with me. I had done it anyway and my reasons had been anything _but_ selfless. Those reasons had been absolutely, positively, without a doubt, incredibly self_ish_.

What the hell had I been thinking? How could I have done this? I _needed_ to leave. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if anything happened to them because of me.

_You are a reprehensible person. You know that, right? _

It did occur to me that I had managed to evade capture for the past five years. The Cullens were vampires and far older than I was, decades, perhaps even centuries older. The danger to them from Project Apotheosis was still very real, just as the danger from the Volturi was, despite Carlisle's assurances to the contrary, but as long as hunters didn't discover my whereabouts, the Cullens would remain safe.

Even if hunters _did_ discover my location, the Cullens were smart. As long as I left before the hunters put two and two together, they would be fine. I once again found comfort in the precautions I'd taken. I could stay for the remaining three weeks of my time here, but I would have to be even more careful about portraying myself as normal. If there was even a breath or a whisper of trouble, I would take off with no hesitation whatsoever.

With that resolved, I pulled myself to my feet, flushed the toilet and went to the sink. Turning on the faucet, I looked at my reflection staring back at me from the mirror.

_Can you say trainwreck? _ I looked truly awful and I winced. Splashing several handfuls of cold water on my face and taking some deep breaths, I knew I was going to have to go back out to the living room and face the Cullens. I wasn't looking forward to it.

When I finally made my way back into the living room and flopped into the armchair, I briefly hesitated before I met their eyes. They deserved for me not to avoid their gazes like I didn't approve of them and what they were, so I held my head high and met their gazes confidently and reassuringly. It didn't assuage them.

Most all of them looked scared and worried. I didn't know if that was because they were worried about my physical health or if it was because they were worried I didn't accept them. Maybe they were frightened of both.

"Are you alright, Bella?" Emmett asked and I still couldn't tell what it was that had him concerned. I hated it. I was always supposed to be able to figure shit like that out. I was so off my game lately.

"I'm fine," I promised, sighing. "I don't know what you think of my physical reaction. I know what it looks like, but it isn't what you think. I really don't care that you're vampires. I don't care that you don't have heartbeats or that you're unnaturally fast, strong, pretty and everything else. I know that after what just happened that that's difficult for you to believe but it's true."

I was right. Their expressions didn't change the least bit. They doubted.

I thought hard on how to make them believe me when I said I didn't care, that knowing the truth didn't change how I felt about them, but they had _never_ known how I felt about them. I had kept that well-hidden, but then I wasn't even sure _I_ knew how I felt about them. I knew I cared but would telling them that make a difference? I didn't know. I _should_ tell them, but I wouldn't.

Rosalie wouldn't give a shit when I left but some of the others would be hurt by it. If they knew I cared, it might make it more difficult for them to get over my leaving. It might even tempt them to try to find me. Considering that Jasper actually had found me before, telling them how I felt about them was something I couldn't do. I'd broken a lot of my rules for the Cullens already. I couldn't break that one. It would be hard enough to leave. It would be harder knowing that taking off would hurt them. Of everyone who hurt because of it, it was only fair that I be the one who suffered the most, if I could help it.

I had the sudden urge to shout out that I didn't give a fuck because I was different too, but I wouldn't do that. _Again_, I was still leaving soon. I still didn't see the point in revealing my secret when our time together was so short, and I was still a coward. What if they didn't accept me? From what I gathered, vampires were one uniform species. I was a fucking hodge-podge. I didn't want to see the looks on their faces when they discovered I was a freak.

I didn't have to tell them about Project Apotheosis, but I could tell them other things. I hated anyone knowing anything about me. It made me feel uncomfortable and exposed, but my knowing their secret couldn't have been comfortable for _them_. It seemed like a semi-even trade. Okay, so it wasn't an even trade at all, but I would be opening myself up and that was something I never did. The least I could do was that.

I inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. It came out shakily and my nerves were nearly unbearable, but I could do this. I wouldn't let this control me. I didn't _let_ things control _me_. I controlled _them_. That was how my life worked. That was how it had to work and that wouldn't change now.

"I've been on my own since I was twelve," I said and paused, trying to figure out what to tell them and how to do it so that I wouldn't be lying all that much. That would defeat the purpose of this whole thing. I should have thought this through a little more instead of diving straight into it, head first. My words caught their interest, and I could tell they were surprised that I was opening up. Emmett actually leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees as he watched and listened. "It's been a long time since I've had to answer to anyone or lived in a place like this." I gestured to the house as a whole. "I don't mean a big house, just a house in general. I stayed in abandoned buildings mostly. I guess abandoned houses count, don't they?" I mused. "They weren't in the best shape, but I suppose they do. At any rate, houses were rare, but whatever," I rambled.

I took another deep breath, collected myself, and went on with more purpose. "When I first struck out on my own, I was too young for people to want to hire me for legitimate work, so I had to resort to certain things, illegal things, things like pickpocketing, cat burgling, and scamming people to keep myself fed and clothed. I am not proud of those things and I constantly wish I hadn't had to do them, but it was what it was at that time and I didn't see any other way to survive.

"It wasn't until I hit fifteen that I was able to get honest jobs to pay for things, which was a relief. I never liked stealing or any of the rest of it. After that I ditched abandoned buildings in favor of shitty motels if I could, but the jobs I managed to get didn't pay all that well. I still didn't have enough money a lot of the time. I found ways to supplement my income, not illegal per se, but creative," I said with a faint smile as I thought of all the poker games I'd played and the pool I'd hustled. Even when I'd won without purposely cheating, I supposed that still counted because of my superior intellect. It made me feel somewhat better that people entered into games like that knowing with gambling there was always a chance they would walk away the loser.

I may have been smiling at those memories but it was more out of uneasiness than anything else. My heart was beating hard, like it was going to burst out of my chest, and try as I might, I could not take control of it as I was generally so good at doing. My throat and mouth were bone dry but I still was adamant that I would not let this get the better of me. I should tell them more, but I didn't feel like I could.

Carlisle was regarding me carefully. His reaction was the one I cared most about, so I paid the most attention to him, keeping an eye on the others through my peripheral vision.

"Why are you telling us this, Bella?" he asked cautiously.

I regarded him just as evenly. "I just puked my guts out after you told me your biggest secret. That's pretty much the equivalent of a slap to the face and a declaration that what you are changes my opinion of you. Even though I told you it doesn't, I don't know if those literal words convinced any of you that my reaction isn't what it looks like," I explained with another sigh. "I know some of you are already mildly aware of my criminal tendencies. I guess I just thought that if I told you some of my secrets, things that could potentially change your opinion of _me_, though they aren't nearly on the same level as yours, that it might make you believe I'm telling you the truth when I say that I don't give a shit what you are. Besides, you are the kindest people I've ever met even though you're not technically people. I can't ignore that. I _won't _ignore that because it says far more about your character than anything else ever could.

"So you're dead and you survive off blood, but so fucking what? Everyone's got something, right? Obviously, I don't share your diet or your 'beyond the grave' status, so I can't relate to you in that way, but I'm not your typical seventeen year old, and I really _don't_ care about any of that," I repeated firmly. "I'm not sure why I reacted the way I did. Maybe it's because I'm surprised by just how okay with all of this I am when I know I shouldn't be. I don't always understand why I do things."

That last part was true. I really _didn't_ understand my body sometimes. How I was reacting to my memories and the added elements to my hallucinations were case in point. In _this_ case, however, that statement was a boldfaced fucking lie, and it didn't feel right rolling off my tongue.

Everyone's faces had softened. My confession had worked the way I'd wanted it to.

Carlisle's gaze shifted from one face of his family members to the next. It seemed as though they were having a silent conversation, and they very well might have been given what Edward had told me about his gift. After several seconds, he returned his eyes to mine.

"We believe you," he told me. He turned his head back to Rosalie. "Even Rose."

I had a hard time believing that but I nodded anyway, already knowing it of everyone else, and moved my gaze to a spot on the wall above their heads. I stared at it absently for a long while, thinking on all the things I'd revealed and fighting off the nausea it caused. It took me several minutes to get it under control.

"And Bella?" Carlisle's voice sounded, dragging my attention back to him. "All of this is a lot to take in. Your reaction wasn't abnormal in the least, though I can't say I wasn't a bit worried that there might have been more to it than that."

I nodded, finally putting that to rest. A thought popped into my head just after that and I was overwhelmed by curiosity over the potential answers. I had suspicions of course, I did have experience in the area after all, but I would have liked to know their methods.

"Can I ask another question?"

"When we voted on whether or not to propose you moving in with us, we made the decision to tell you everything if ever you discovered what we are," Carlisle revealed, "no matter what limitations you might still enforce in regard to your own life. So please, ask."

"How do you guys get around the Safe Citizens Act?"

Jasper grinned, looking proud that I'd asked. Then he winced, clearly remembering our conversation from the beach, but still answered, "Before the attacks, we used to move every six or seven years so humans wouldn't notice that we don't age. We generally stayed in the States but after the Act was implemented, it became necessary to move out of the country after those six to seven years. Before we make the move, Emmett, our resident computer genius and hacker extraordinaire, removes all traces of our existence from all the pertinent databases. Edward and Alice come up with backstories for each of our new identities and Esme and I take care of the documents to verify those backstories. We used to have a lawyer who took care of that stuff before the attacks," he said. "After them, that obviously wasn't an option anymore, but it wasn't much of an issue."

"But you come back to the States?" I asked.

"Yes," Alice took over. "This is home, you know? And we repeat the same pattern and process in whatever country we end up in. It's just a lot easier for the U.S. government not to notice us if we drop off the radar for a decade than it is to stick around for that time and constantly having to worry about people questioning why we're not aging. That's always been a concern, of course, but it's gotten worse since the attacks."

"That makes sense," I concurred, nodding contemplatively.

From one artist to another, I would have liked to study Jasper and Esme's forgeries to compare. Though I was very talented, there was a chance I could learn things from them. They had been doing it for much longer than I had, but I couldn't broach that subject. I didn't see how I could. It meant I would have to confess a few more things I couldn't explain.

_You are such a fucking hypocrite._

"Do you have any other questions, Bella?" Carlisle asked.

I took a moment to deliberate over this and concluded that I didn't. "No, but I guess the hulking monstrosity of a mansion and all the cars you've got now make a hell of a lot more sense. You've had decades to accumulate wealth, I assume."

"That's almost all Alice," Edward said.

I raised an eyebrow.

"One of the perks of my gift is predicting stock market trends," she explained.

"Ahh," I chuckled, "that comes in pretty handy, I guess."

Alice just grinned at me.

My fatigue washed over me then and I felt inordinately weary. I hadn't slept since the day I'd napped on Jasper. A lot had happened in that time and much of it had been incredibly emotionally intense. I stretched my arms above my head, slow and languid, the burn of Jasper's eyes igniting my skin. It didn't relieve any of the exhaustion from my muscles or brain, and I yawned.

"I'm pretty tired," I admitted. "I think I'm gonna crash for a while."

As I ascended the stairs, a lightbulb went off in my head. I turned on my heel and hurried back down them, taking them three steps at a time and racing back into the living room. I skidded to a halt in front of Jasper, my eyes wide.

oOo

JPOV

I hadn't known what to expect when Bella discovered what we are. She was such a fuckin' mystery, so it was impossible to guess. It had been touch and go when she'd rushed to the bathroom and upchucked everything she'd eaten _ever_, and everyone's distress over that had nearly overwhelmed me. Hers was a normal reaction to everything she'd learned if one really thought about it, but there had been a fear in all of us that we were being rejected by her. Even Peter and Charlotte's confidence, which had been rock solid, had been shaken by that. It had been so unexpected. She'd taken everything so well up until then, so completely in stride it was actually kind of disturbing to see her react like a normal person for once. That she'd opened up to us about her own life in an effort to convince us that her opinion of us hadn't changed was shocking, but it eased all of our minds, and Esme and Carlisle had been so thoroughly touched. Even Rosalie had softened up. Her attitude may have changed toward Bella significantly in the last days, but my actions had screwed with that, and Rose had been fighting hard against the progress she'd made. The idea that Bella might have been rejecting us hadn't helped, but Bella's effort to appease us had gone a long way in fixing it.

We were all relieved that this was over, that our secret was finally out, and that we no longer had to hide. To be able to truly be ourselves in our own home, the one place we had always been able to be what we are without fear of getting caught would be wonderful, and everyone was looking forward to it. Mostly though, everyone was pleased to have Bella 100% "with" us now. She was still hesitant and standoffish, but she knew we were vampires and she didn't care. The family saw potential in that.

I did too but I was concerned about her. She had made a monumental and difficult decision to share those things about herself. They hadn't seen her in Louisville or been on the beach with us. They'd always suspected she had a hard time with vulnerability and opening up, and they were right. Her body's reactions as she told us proved it, but the family still hadn't been there the way I had. They hadn't seen it the way _I_ had. Not only that, but I understood from my recent experiences in telling Edward and Carlisle about some of my past. It was no wonder Bella was tired after the events of the past couple days between the accident, our huge revelations and hers. I was glad she was headed upstairs to sleep because she did look genuinely exhausted. She _needed_ the sleep, and part of me wished I could curl up with her the way we had when she'd unintentionally dozed off on me. That desire was one I refused to think on or dissect.

When she skidded to a halt in front of me, wide-eyed, not thirty seconds after she'd started up to her room, I was surprised.

"You're Jasper Whitlock," she whispered in astonishment, her breathing coming hard and fast.

My brow furrowed, and I frowned in confusion. She knew what my name was. Why the fuck was she saying it like that?

Emmett sidled up to her and raised his hand to her forehead like he was going to check for a fever and I tensed. Bella batted it away before it made contact with her skin and I relaxed. He was just as confused as I was, as the rest of the family was for that matter. "You've known that for nearly two months now, Bella."

Bella only spared him a brief glance before she looked back at me, her eyes no less wide. She gestured at me wildly. "No, he's Jasper fucking _Whitlock_!"

My frown deepened.

"Aren't you?" she asked, but then she shook her head. "No, you have to be."

"Why are you saying Jazz's name like he's a celebrity or something?" Emmett asked, plopping back down next to Rosalie.

"Because he is!" she exclaimed. "Kind of."

"What are you talkin' about, sugar?" I questioned warily, still baffled as fuck.

"You're Major Jasper Whitlock of the Confederate Army of The Civil War?" Bella finally responded. "Major Jasper Whitlock from Houston, Texas who joined up in 1861 at the age of twenty, and by the first battle of Galveston in 1863 was the youngest major in Texas? Major Jasper Whitlock who went MIA while evacuating women and children from the city during that battle?"

Emmett looked dumbfounded, as did everyone else. My mouth dropped open in astonishment.

"That's you, isn't it?" she asked me.

"How in the _fuck_ do you know that?" I demanded, but there was no bite to it. I was too shell-shocked for it to come out with any malice. I may have been the youngest major in Texas in Confederate Army history, but I wasn't that well-known. I had died before I'd had a chance to make an indelible mark on the war effort. Those who did know who I was as a human tended to be serious historians, so Bella connecting my name correctly to who I was as a very minor historical figure was mind-boggling. Not to mention, I didn't want her to make that connection. It was one thing for her to know I was a vampire. It was entirely another for her to get her hands on a little piece of a clue that could lead her to who I'd been after I was turned. I didn't want her to know about who I'd been then; she did not _need_ to know.

"I knew it!" she crowed, pumping her fist in the air and doing a victorious little hop I would have found cute if she'd been doing it for any other reason. "Your name has been bugging the shit out of me ever since you told me what it really was!"

"I repeat," I growled, though not venomously, "how the fuck do you know that?"

Bella shrugged noncommittally. "One of my former history instructors believed that war is the single most important aspect of history. He believed it was so important that he didn't teach me about anything else, and he was very …" she paused, her features taking on a bitter twist "... thorough. He was kind of fanatical about it actually, not just about teaching it to me, but about war itself. As you can imagine, he was a great lover of all things war-related, especially the military leaders of them. He was hugely interested in some of the lesser known ones, but not the ones that didn't rise through the ranks because of mediocrity. He was terribly fascinated with the ones that had serious potential but were killed in action or went missing and were presumed dead before they had the opportunity to realize that potential. He made it his business to know as much about them as he could, and then he made it _my_ business to know," she said. "He was particularly fond of _you_. Hell, I'd even go so far as to say he was a fanboy."

"What? Why?" I asked, taken aback. I had been a good soldier as a human, but I'd been promoted more because of the infancy and lack of organization of the Confederate Army at the time, as well as what I now knew were the human makings of my empathic gift.

"For a lot of reasons," she responded, plopping onto the floor in front of me and crossing her legs. She was gazing at me with rapt interest. It made me really uncomfortable.

I raised my eyebrows in question.

"Your age and how quickly you rose through the ranks, for starters," she said, "and then there are the journals."

"Journals?" I queried. If I hadn't been confused before, which I absolutely was, I sure as fuck was now.

"Your regiment served under Major General John B. Magruder, did it not?"

I nodded.

"He was the guy who became the Confederate commander of military forces in Texas and arranged the attack on Galveston in the first place, but you already know that," she guessed.

I did and I nodded to confirm it. Any Civil War buff did. Seeing as I was a Civil War vet, it would have been irresponsible and downright offensive for me not to. Plus, though I didn't remember much of my human life, I did remember him a little. He was the one who'd put me in charge of evacuating the women and children during the battle of Galveston, and before that, he had personally begun to school me in the art of strategy and ruse—the things for which he was well-known in battle, and though my memories of him as a man were hazy and indistinct, I remembered his lessons very vividly. Maria had continued those lessons after I was turned.

Bella continued to speak in response to my confirmation. "He kept journals."

"So?"

"He wrote about you," Bella said.

"Are you fucking with me?" I pressed. I would not appreciate it if she was. I was proud of my human military career.

"No," she answered with a frown. "My teacher had … connections. He was capable of getting his hands on very rare and valuable historical artifacts, and he often did. Those journals were some of those artifacts. He studied them scrupulously and then he made me study them just as scrupulously. You're in Major General John B. Magruder's personal wartime journals, Jasper. I've read them."

"No, shit," Peter whistled lowly. "Isn't that somethin', Major?"

It was the first time Peter had called me that in front of Bella. It was the first time he could get away with it without raising serious questions in her.

"Yeah, it's something," I muttered in disbelief, barely audible.

"What did they say?" Alice asked enthusiastically, bouncing in her seat in her excitement and inquisitive desire to know.

It was another piece to the mystery puzzle that was me. My time as a soldier in the Southern Wars wasn't the only period of my life I had never discussed. I kept my time in The Civil War relatively close to the vest as well. I was proud of it, but talking about it inevitably led to talking about how I was turned and where I'd subsequently ended up.

Bella studied me for several moments before she answered, and I again wondered what she was looking for. "Do you want it word for word or will the gist of it suffice?"

"The gist," I replied, hiding my uncertainty over whatever it was she was about to say.

"He said you were the most impressive young man he'd ever met. He said he'd never encountered anyone more gifted with words but that your ability to draw people in verbally wasn't what made you so impressive. He said it was your ability to draw people to you without speaking that was truly remarkable, that your presence was so dynamic it was impossible to ignore or deny," she said. I had a tough time deciphering the emotion coloring her tone. "He said you were compassionate and empathetic but great at storing that away when it was needed, that you were just as good with horses as you were with people, that you were a quick learner and picked up battle strategy with an ease and adeptness he'd never seen. He believed that if you survived until the war reached its conclusion, he wouldn't be surprised if you ended up leading not just the entire Texas faction of the Confederate Army but the Confederate Army as a whole, and that if the Confederacy won it would be because of you. He said that if there ever was such a thing as the perfect soldier, you were as close to it as anyone would ever get. He said you were born for it, and he was disheartened when you went missing."

I sucked in a sharp and unneeded breath that stuck in my throat. I shot to my feet, marched stiffly to the front door, and threw my fist against the wood. It cracked and then splintered, exploding into hundreds of pieces. The shrill keen of tearing metal filled the air, the door hewn clean off its hinges, the pieces flying God knows where. I didn't bother to look, and I didn't run off into the trees that led into the forest surrounding the house though my tense, coiled muscles were poised to do just that. I stalked off calmly, my pace measured but determined, needing to put as much distance between myself and the world as I could.

No one followed me and that was best. I would have ripped anyone apart that did.

I had often wondered if being a soldier was the only thing I was good for. It often seemed like it was the only thing I was good _at_, and even after all these years away from the Southern Wars, being a soldier was still what made the most sense to me a lot of the time. Now I had my answer. I was born to be a soldier both in my human life and this one. I was destined for it and nothing else. I'd been fucked from the moment I'd taken my first breath.

_How very fuckin' poetic._

oOo

**A/N: **Alright, so there you have it. There was a lot of information in this chapter, I know. Bella's reaction was varied. What did you think of it?

Since I throw a flippin' ridiculous amount of information at you every chapter, I wouldn't blame you if you don't remember, but Bella starts getting bothered by Jasper's name in chapter 24 and has commented on it a couple times since. She has had other things to worry about though, so trying to figure out why his name sounded familiar wasn't a top priority and she needed the final detail of him being a vampire to put the puzzle together. I thought it would be fun to play around with her already knowing who he was as a human, and given her background, it was feasible.

I don't know if Major General John B. Magruder actually wrote journals, and if he did, Jasper obviously isn't in them.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Take care! :)


	46. Chapter 33 Part 1

**A/N:** Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I'm only making her characters do my bidding for a little while. The plot and original characters of Longing do belong to me, however. Jasper as the God of War and Peter "just knowing shit" are ideas that belong to Idreamofeddy.

Thank you to Laurie Whitlock, my wonderful friend and beta, Shelljayz, my awesome and beloved sister and beta/prereader, and juliangelus, another wonderful and dear friend and prereader. I love you guys.

Thank you to everyone who has read, followed, favorited and reviewed this story. I, once again, was a failure of epic proportions at responding to reviews. I'm so sorry about that. Just know that I appreciate each and every one. I'm still having a rough time, and it's been hard to keep up with them.

Thanks a million to whoever nominated me for the Energize W.I.P. Awards. It truly means a lot. Voting begins on July 13th, and I will put the link for the website on my profile. You should definitely vote, even if it isn't for me. There are so many great authors that deserve recognition for their amazing work! :)

Now that the Cullens' secret is out to Bella, where do they go from there? And what is going on with Jasper? Shall we find out?

oOo

_Sunday, November 22nd, 2080_

BPOV

Jasper had been distant and distracted since Friday, and it had nothing to do with me knowing he and his family were vampires. No, Jasper was all screwed up over the fact that I knew who he was as a human. I just didn't know why. It seemed awfully backward, and though I couldn't be sure, it felt like he was avoiding me. I was never sure of anything when it came to him though. I could have been overreacting. I did that when it came to him too.

So now the infuriating niggling I'd been feeling since I had first heard his name was laid to rest, but he was clearly not at peace; then again, he hadn't been for as long as I'd known him.

His discontent bugged me. I couldn't stand it and that he might be avoiding me because of it, and I had been wracking my brain the past couple days trying to come up with ways to fix it. It would have helped me figure out how to make things right between us if I knew what bothered him about my knowledge of him as a human, but I knew he would never tell me. We were alike in that way. We were alike in a lot of ways.

Major General John B. Magruder had written that Jasper was as close to the perfect soldier as he'd ever seen. I _was_ the perfect soldier. That similarity between us was almost disturbing, but it made sense. I'd pegged Jasper as the military type the first time we met. It was obvious in the way he carried himself and existed in the world around him, but I'd dismissed that notion because I hadn't believed he was more than eighteen at the time. I'd written it off as a fluke or figured that he was a military brat before he'd been adopted by the Cullens, but I was wrong. He was an _actual_ soldier. It had been more than two centuries since he'd donned a uniform, but he was still a soldier, just like I was; that obviously bothered him, but I wasn't going to ask him about it. How could I? It wasn't my business really, no matter how curious I was, and as I'd already mentioned, he would never tell me.

Part of me wanted to shy away from Jasper because he was a soldier still, to shy away from Peter too because he also gave off that vibe, and if I could pick up on what they were, it was fair to assume that they could pick up on the same attributes in me. I wouldn't though. It might have been pushing my luck, but my determination to convince Jasper I was a decent person was no less strong. I had to make up for how I'd treated him. I owed him that, and I wouldn't back out on it because there was a possibility he could notice how similar we were. I could attribute those similarities to my years living on the streets if I had to—it was plausible enough. It wouldn't make me feel like the most awesome person ever, but I still had to put my survival above almost everything else. I would feel bad about it for awhile, but I would get over it.

At any rate, I had several more hours to scheme on how to cheer him up. I was working an eight hour shift at the diner, and while the place would be busy as hell for the whole of that time, I could devote a small section of my brain to waitressing without my customers suffering for it and the rest of it to Operation Pull Jasper's Head Out of His Ass. The unfortunate thing about those eight hours was that I would be working with Leah Clearwater for six of them.

I hadn't seen Leah since the day before the accident, and I wondered if she was going to say something to me about it. Tyler's van nearly hitting me had burned through the gossip grapevine more quickly than usual, and the whole town knew about it by the time first period was over that day. Thankfully, Jasper's involvement in my rescue had remained obscure to everyone. The story we'd fed Sheriff Dwyer about him sliding under the van after the fact to see if he could help was holding up, but Leah Clearwater wasn't just anyone. She was a member of a supernatural group of creatures that had it out for the Cullens, and I was sure there was at least some speculation there, speculation that wouldn't allow the Quileute tribe to let things alone. I was sure there would be some sort or inquiry or investigation on their part. The treaty between them and the Cullens gave them that right, but I wasn't in the mood for any kind of confrontation, and there was no telling what I would say or do if she _did_ say something to me about it.

"You ready to roll, Bells?" Emmett asked, shouldering my partially open door wide to accommodate his large frame. He was tossing his keys high in the air and twisting around in fancy maneuvers before he caught them. I think he was trying to show off some of his vampire prowess, and it was impressive, I had to admit.

Emmett was my ride to work since my car was totalled in the accident four days ago.

"Don't call me that," I bit out with as little animosity as I could while I grabbed up my purse and the outlines for Jasper's and my next joint history project. I'd finished them the night before when the Cullens thought I was sleeping, and I was going to drop them in Jasper's study for him to look over while I was at work or whenever. The upcoming week was the Thanksgiving holiday which we had off, so it wasn't pertinent that he get it done right away, but it was a good excuse to gauge his most current state of mind.

"What? 'Bells'?" Emmett questioned with a frown, following me through the door of his brother's study.

Jasper was sitting in an armchair by the window with a book open in his lap. He wasn't paying the book any mind though, his golden gaze fixed on a spot in the distance through the glass, his expression devoid of all emotion. My entrance with Emmett on my heels had the planes of his beautiful face darkening with the shadows of ghosts I would never know. Peter and Charlotte were curled up on the brown leather loveseat, her back to his chest, also with a book.

At the sound of Emmett's voice, Jasper snapped out of his reverie and brought his attention to us.

I nodded stiffly in acknowledgment of Emmett's question and held up the papers for Jasper to see. "Call me anything else, _within reason_," I emphasized those last words, turning them into a warning. "But do _not_ call me that."

Jasper reached out for the assignments, beckoning me to him, and I crossed the room to hand them over. Our fingers brushed accidentally, and I shivered.

"Your hands are cold," I offered as an explanation to no one in particular. His body temperature had nothing to do with the shiver that ripped through me—I hadn't set myself up to feel the cold like a normal person, and even if I had, I wouldn't have been able to feel it with the way heat always tore through me at his touch. I irrationally wanted to touch him again, and I almost did, my index finger poised to run up the skin of his forearm, when Emmett's voice rang out.

"Why?" he continued to question, settling his back against the wall next to the homey, lit fireplace.

I broke out of the spell I was under, not sparing Jasper much of a glance as I spun to face the bear-like Cullen. I marched forward until I was just a foot away from him and propped my hands on my hips.

"Because I don't like it." Except that had very little to do with it. "And you know what they say, don't you?" I asked with an arched brow.

"People say lots of things," Emmett responded.

"Curiosity killed the vampire," I clarified cheekily.

He grinned at me and let out the booming laugh I'd become so fond of in the last weeks. So did the others, even Jasper, though it didn't sound like he meant to. It was distracting.

"I like it when you laugh, Texas," I said without thinking and turned to see if he was smiling too. He wasn't, but he did look surprised by my admission. _I_ was surprised by my admission, and I fought to keep a blush from flooding my cheeks. He made that hard sometimes. I now had to wonder if they could smell my struggle to get ahold of my blood flow with their keen sense of smell and truly hoped they couldn't. Some humans had better control over their physical reactions to things, including keeping their heart rates steady—that's generally how spies and the like outsmarted lie detectors—but my control of it went above and beyond. It was abnormal, and the Cullens could notice. Plus, the urge to blush in Jasper's presence was embarrassing enough without anyone else knowing about it.

Peter and Charlotte had smiles on their faces which pissed me off. It made me wonder if they thought there was more to that comment than there actually was. I wanted to scowl at them but didn't. That might give them more reason to think there was. Emmett seemed unfazed. I wasn't sure if he just didn't notice the potential for it to mean more or just didn't care.

"C'mon, Bella," he said. "We gotta get you to work."

"Actually, Em," Charlotte said, peeling herself away from Peter. "I would like to drive Bella." Then she looked to me. "If that's okay with you."

"I don't mind," I told her with a shrug.

Emmett pouted, and I patted him on the shoulder as I passed. I still didn't like touching, but it was easier when I did it of my own accord ... unless it was Jasper. Then I hated it and liked it in equal measure.

"Don't worry, Em," I reassured him. "You can pick me up."

That mollified him some and he grinned that boyish grin that nearly melted me every time he shot it my way.

Charlotte got to her feet, and we made our way out of Jasper's study, the burn of Jasper's eyes following me all the while.

"I hate having to let people drive me around," I grumbled as we walked down the stairs.

"You could ask to borrow a car," Charlotte pointed out. "I know someone would let you."

I sighed in irritation. "I know, but taking me to work makes Emmett happy for some reason, and though I have _no_ idea why, I feel the need to give him that. Oh, how the mighty have fallen," I lamented, sighing.

Charlotte chuckled but didn't comment.

As we passed through the kitchen on our way to the garage, we were stopped by Esme's voice. "Bella, dear, what would you like for Thanksgiving dinner?"

My eyebrows puckered in confusion. "Thanksgiving is a food holiday. I know you're vampires now, and vampires obviously wouldn't celebrate something like that. You don't have to keep pretending to eat for my sake, and I have no intention of making you cook Thanksgiving dinner just for one."

Esme gave me an indulgent smile. "Thanksgiving is about far more than just food, and we are very blessed, so we like to celebrate the things we're thankful for. Carlisle and I insist on it, and I'm not making the food just for you. I plan to take what you don't eat to the soup kitchen. If it makes you feel better, you can help me cook it. I know you don't like to let people do things for you too often, and I really do need you to decide what you want. If I don't buy the ingredients soon, the grocery store may run out of them."

"Alright," I said, nodding. I'd never celebrated Thanksgiving before, not traditionally, at least. The idea was appealing to me, but it would be a bit awkward eating alone in a room full of vampires. Oh well. "But only if Emmett doesn't watch me eat like he's got some demented fetish!" I called loudly, knowing he would hear.

Emmett's booming laugh filtered down to me from Jasper's study. It made me grin.

oOo

Charlotte and I were silent for the first part of the ride to Diamond in the Rough. When we reached the halfway point, she pulled over to the side of the road.

I gave her a questioning look, but she didn't answer for a while, just gazing at me shrewdly and steadily. She was studying me, trying to read me. Because it was something I so often did, I recognized the gesture for what it was in an instant. I wondered if she was doing it to unnerve me as well. That was something I did too, and Charlotte gave off the same soldierish vibe that Peter and Jasper did, only to a much lesser degree. She was still sharp and subtly unyielding, intimidating and manipulative in a way that a person would never pick up on unless they knew what to look for, but she rarely used that intimidation and manipulation unless it was necessary. I'd seen it only once in the time I'd known her, but that one time was enough to tell me this; she was also stark and honest.

It was two minutes and fourteen point two seconds before she spoke. "Whatever was goin' on between you and Jasper is over now, right?"

I kept my features stoic, not wanting to react to her question. _What the fuck? Did Jasper tell her about Louisville after he said he didn't kiss and tell?_ "Excuse me?"

"The two of you are over whatever it was that had you at each other's throats or am I readin' things wrong?" she clarified.

"No, you're not reading things wrong," I confirmed, letting out an internal sigh of relief. "And none of that was Jasper's fault. It was all on me, but I'm going to change the way I treat him."

"I'm glad you can cop to that," Charlotte said, turning to face me. "I'm even more glad to hear you're gonna can the bitch routine and start treatin' Jasper right. I'm gonna be honest with you, Bella. Peter and I may have been civil to you, nice even, but we didn't, _don't_, approve of how you treated him even if you did ignore him a lot of the time. It was really difficult for me to hold my tongue when you were unjustifiably bitchy to him. Pete and I are the first ones to get after him when he's bein' an asshole, but he never treated you badly unless you did it first. That may not have been the best way for him to handle things, but he still had the right to put you in your place when you went for his jugular, so to speak. You have no fuckin' idea what he's been through, the things he's done for us, or the lengths we'll go to to protect him and have his back. The God's honest truth is that if I didn't like you, if Peter hadn't staid my hand, I would have ripped your throat out, even if it _would_ have caused a war with the Quileutes."

There was a terrible yet beautiful passion in Charlotte's voice as she told me that. I had the vague thought that I would give anything for someone to love me in that way.

"And it was a good damn thing I didn't," she muttered under her breath. It wasn't something I was supposed to hear, something a _typical_ human wasn't supposed to hear, so I didn't ask her what she meant.

"Wow," I proclaimed, impressed. "That was blunt."

"I don't believe in dancin' around things."

"That's something we have in common," I noted. It was something I'd already suspected, but this little encounter was confirmation.

Charlotte smiled. "It's one of the things I like about you, Bella, which is another reason I'm glad you and Jasper have worked things out. I would like for us to be friends. I've really always wanted us to be, and I think he would like that too, even if he doesn't realize it yet."

"I don't know what that means," I said, frowning.

"I know," she returned, her smile turning mysterious.

What bothered me was how much I wanted to be friends with Charlotte … and Alice, Peter, Emmett and Edward … and Angela, who I'd been talking to more and more in the classes we shared and during the times we ate lunch together. I even wanted to be friends with Riley, which was stupid for all sorts of reasons—namely the fact that his father, Phil, was the Chief of Police, but we got along well, and I'd had fun the two times we'd gotten together to work on Physics projects. The relationship I was beginning to want with Esme wasn't the same. I wanted to be close to her in a much different way. The relationship I was developing with Carlisle was yet another thing. I didn't know what I wanted from Jasper—friendship or just the ability to peacefully coexist. Whichever one it was, it was still more than what I'd anticipated I would want.

Why was I making things so painfully hard on myself? I would be leaving in a matter of weeks, and it was going to hurt … badly.

oOo

The first six hours of my shift were run-of-the-mill. My customers were pleasant, and I earned good tips—not as good as at The Finish Line, but that was a bar in a big city with a higher volume of customers, and I wasn't walking around this place in the revealing but not too revealing clothes I had worn there; the tips here would _never_ be that good. Leah eyed me with speculation but kept her distance, which was more than I expected. That was good but good things never lasted.

I was on my second break and was outside enjoying the crisp, clean winter air when she approached me. She'd just clocked out and was headed home, and I imagined she figured now was the best time to ambush me. I had the fleeting urge to pretend like she didn't exist or shoulder passed her and saunter back into the restaurant like she meant nothing. I met her eyes instead; I wanted this over and done with.

"Is there something you want, Leah?" I asked, masking my impatience and anger with indifference.

"Yes, actually," she answered, no trace of nerves in her voice. Her confidence was one of the things I admired and liked about her. It was one of the things that, on occasion, made me wish we could be friends. Knowing she was part of the group that policed the Cullens and that she was keeping an eye on me because of it, that everything about her was fake, changed that, tainted it, however, and the fleeting desire I had to be her friend was quashed. "I've been wanting to talk to you for days."

"So talk," I invited with no inflection.

"We can't talk here," she responded.

"We talk here or we don't talk at all," I dictated bullheadedly, crossing my arms over my chest.

Leah rolled her eyes, and she, unlike me, didn't bother to hide her impatience. "You only have ten minutes of your break left, Bella. What I need to say to you will take longer than that, and it _can't_ be said here. It's not safe."

"Not safe for who?" I demanded, keeping my voice quiet. "For me? For you? You think I don't know what you're really doing here, Leah?" I hissed, losing my cool. I was furious and ... hurt? Betrayed?

_Huh._ Yes, I knew that was hypocritical too, but I couldn't seem to help that either.

"You're a fucking plant! Sent here to watch me and make sure that the big, bad Cullens don't harm a hair on weak, defenseless Bella's head!" I snarled dangerously. "All this time you've been nice to me, trying to make me believe you wanted to be my friend, and it was nothing but bullshit! Well, fuck you!"

Leah's eyes blazed but she did the opposite of what I was expecting; she sighed instead of lashing out. "You're not wrong about most of that but being nice to you and wanting to be your friend wasn't, _isn't_, bullshit, Bella. I want you to give me a chance to explain."

"Why should I?"

"They told you everything?" she questioned. I nodded in confirmation, and she continued, "I want you to give me a chance to explain because you gave _them_ one."

"_They_ put a roof over my head, _they_ put food in my belly, _they_ have been nothing but kind to me since I met them, even though that's the last thing I deserved or continue to deserve for them to be," I replied to that. "_They_ saved my life, in a sense, by taking me in." I didn't actually mean that though. What I meant, without being able to say it, was that Carlisle had when he found me in Louisville. "Jasper literally saved it, risking his and his family's safety without a second thought to keep my ass alive. Now they're trusting me with their secret, still knowing that I don't trust them with any of mine. I owed _them_ a chance to explain. I don't owe _you_ or any of the rest of your tribe that courtesy."

"When I asked you if they told you everything, what exactly does 'everything' mean?" Leah asked.

"They told me everything about them, and then Carlisle told me they weren't the only supernatural creatures living in Forks. I took a guess who the others were, and I happened to guess right," I informed her. "I asked what you are, but Carlisle wouldn't say. 'That's not our story to tell,' were his specific words. He _did_ tell me that not all of your people are 'other,' but that those of you that are, protect those of your tribe that aren't, from vampires. Then he told me about the treaty."

Leah huffed, her expression hot with fury. "He may not have told you _what_ we are, but there's not much he didn't tell you!"

"It was in the interest of full disclosure, Leah! He told me because he thought knowing as much as possible would help keep me safe if things ever came to a head!" I spat. It took all my restraint not to yell, grab hold of her shoulders and shake her, but I kept myself in check. "The most important thing is that he _did_ keep your secrets. I don't _know_ what you are. He left telling me that up to you!"

Every word I'd just said echoed in my head, but I ignored them. It was another thing that was so incredibly hypocritical, but I couldn't let those words apply to me.

_You're still leaving soon, Bella, _I repeated yet again. I needed to protect myself, whether the Cullens would keep my secrets or not. Telling them wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't change that I still had to run and keep running if I wanted to stay safe and free. They would probably try to convince me to stay with them, that they could somehow protect me, but they couldn't, vampires or not. No one could protect me but me. That was my reality. It always had been. It always would be.

"And we want you to know!" Leah barked lowly to keep our words from floating to those lingering in the parking lot or heading into the diner. "I have permission from the tribal elders to tell you. The fact of the matter is that the Cullens brought you into a world that you have no business being in! Our people that aren't 'other' don't even know because that isn't a burden they need to bear. There's a reason no one knows what the Cullens are, Bella! There's a reason no one knows what _we_ are! They're called secrets for a reason, but you're in it now, and now that you are, you _do_ need to know. Not just their side but ours too—for your fucking safety! Dr. Cullen was right about that, at least. I'm not trying to turn you against them, Bella. I won't lie and say that there won't be those of us that won't, but _I_ won't and neither will Jacob. A couple months ago, I might have, Jacob might have but not anymore. Can't you just take a leap of faith and let me tell you?"

I just stared at her. She'd made a good argument, and I believed her when she said she wouldn't try to turn me against the Cullens, but I wasn't ready to let her see she was wearing me down. It was another power play. Old habits die hard.

Leah threw her hands up, her frustration boiling over. "Gah! Sometimes I wish you and I weren't so much alike!"

"Fine," I conceded, putting her out of her misery.

Her lips twisted into a radiant smile of triumph. "Meet me at the treaty line after you get off work. The Cullens know where it is so bring one with you—I don't care which one. It's to show good faith between us. Jake will be with me. We'll tell you everything then."

I nodded in acquiescence.

oOo

Emmett was the Cullen I brought with me, and I gave him no warning. I felt mildly guilty about it, but he was coming to pick me up from work anyway. It occurred to me that Jasper would be the better choice as an empath. He would be better able to keep control of the situation if things went to shit for whatever reason, but I still couldn't be sure if he was avoiding me or not. If he was, that wouldn't make for the most ideal of situations, and Emmett was an excellent choice as well. He was a towering wall of muscle, intimidating if you didn't know him, and his size was as on par with Jacob's as any of the Cullens could get.

He wasn't bothered by my keeping him in the dark, but Emmett was so easygoing that it wouldn't. It didn't seem like much of anything ever did. He even agreed to keep the others out of it when I asked him to ... as long as Leah wasn't bullshitting us.

"I hope you don't get motion sickness," Emmett said with a grin.

He flung me on his back and ran us to the treaty line, taking special care to dodge any branches that might scratch me, and the wind whipped my hair into a frenzy around my face and shoulders. I was glad he'd done it. I'd wanted a more concrete idea of the parameters of vampire speed and I'd gotten it. The only drawback was the contact it required. It was true my skin crawled less when Emmett touched me, but it still crawled. I wondered if my less intense reaction was because he'd comforted me after my phone call with Kathleen Davidson.

Leah and Jacob were waiting for us when we got there.

"Alright, I'm here," I said without preamble. "Talk."

Jacob ignored my brusqueness. "Hello, Bella," he greeted me amiably, gracing me with that easy, infectious grin of his. It reminded me of Emmett, strangely enough. Considering they hated each other, it was ironic. Jacob gave Emmett a tight nod. "Leech."

There was a joking quality to his tone, but his body language betrayed his uneasiness. That uneasiness meant nothing to me right then—I had absolutely no patience for it. I didn't yet know the history behind their feud, but at that point, I didn't give a shit.

"Jake!" Leah chastised sharply, even though she knew better than anyone that he wasn't altogether serious. I ignored her admonition.

"His name is Emmett," I ground out. "If we're going to talk, call him by his fucking name!"

Jacob put up his hands placatingly. "Sorry, dude," he apologized to Emmett, and then shifted his gaze to me. "Our species' are mortal enemies, Bella. We rub each other the wrong way. It's instinctual. I'm trying to fight against that, but it's an unnatural thing to do, which makes it difficult. I know it's not easy for Emmett either, and I was just doing my best to lighten things up. That wasn't the best way to do it, but I do stupid things sometimes. It was a bad joke."

I gave him a nod. He nodded back, and he and Leah turned away from us, heading behind a couple trees. I heard rustling, and when they came back out, they were in their underwear.

I was on the verge of asking, "What the hell?" but before I could, they began to tremble and the air around them started to shimmer. A moment later, they exploded, and in their place were two horse-sized wolves.

"Well, damn," I muttered, my eyes wide. I'd known the Quileutes were "other," but I hadn't quite been prepared for what I was seeing now. Finding out the Cullens were vampires was a much easier transition.

The russet-colored wolf that had appeared in Jacob's place let out a rasp that sounded almost like a chuckle. The smaller gray "Leah" wolf nudged him in the shoulder before trotting back behind the tree the human Leah had gone to change only a minute before. Another minute passed, and Leah was standing in front of me, fully clothed and human again.

"So, you're what? Werewolves?" I queried curiously, now over my shock and ready to get back down to business.

"No," Leah responded. "We're shape-shifters who just happen to take on the shape of wolves when we phase, but you can call us that if it's easier for you. There's this whole complicated tribal legend about how that came to be, but I won't bore you with every intimate detail. The bottom line is that we have magic in our blood—our genes. It's that magic that triggered our ability to shift, and it was our outrage over threats against our people, unnatural ones most specifically," she said, looking pointedly at Emmett, "that triggered the actual shift. That means that we shift whenever we need to, not when there's a full moon, and we're in control of the shift ... except for when we first phase. It's like anyone learning any new thing at that point. It takes some practice, but it's something we're born to do, so we learn pretty quickly."

"I suppose silver doesn't make you quake in your boots either," I quipped.

Leah and the Jacob wolf rolled their eyes. "No."

"And vampires are one of those unnatural threats?"

"Yes," she confirmed needlessly. "As I'm sure you can guess, most vampires aren't like _them_," she jerked her thumb at Emmett. "All of the ones our tribe has encountered before them have left nothing but casualties in their wake. We've always gotten rid of them because we've always believed, in part, that protecting our tribe from vampires is what we were made for. The only reason we didn't take on the Cullens," she continued, meeting Emmett's eyes, "is because they proved how different they are."

"How did they do that?" I had always known the Cullens were nice, even when I wasn't sure if I was just trying to convince myself of it for my own peace of mind. Seeing how the Quileutes typically reacted to them, I was beyond curious what could possibly have made them stop to consider that the Cullens weren't like others of their species.

"When the Cullens first came here in 1936, the Chief of our tribe, Ephraim Black, was Jacob's great-great-great grandfather to the nth degree. The Cullens didn't know who _we_—our people—were, or that our purpose is to kill them. They were hunting one day and came across Ephraim's wife and son being attacked by vampires, and even after they figured out, in the midst of the fight, what we were and why we exist, they still killed those vampires to save the lives of the Chief's family," Leah answered somberly, her gaze boring into mine, and then shifting to Emmett. "They didn't have to do that, but they still did it, and our tribe owes them a debt for that. Most don't feel that way but some do. _I_ do." The Jacob wolf whined, and her eyes flitted to him and then to Emmett's before meeting mine again. "And so does Jake. We didn't know about what Carlisle, Esme, Edward, Emmett and Rosalie did for us until a few weeks ago, and Jacob is right. It's hard to let our prejudice and instinctual reaction to vampires go, to fight against it, but he and I are trying. There are others who are trying too. Things won't ever be perfect between us. Some of the pack will never give a shit that you helped an ancestor of ours, but you've earned our respect, Emmett," she finished, gesturing to herself and Jacob. "I hope you'll pass that on to Dr. Fang. I don't necessarily approve of you bringing Bella into our world, but she's in it now, and she's got protection from us and, I'm pretty sure, from you."

"You're damn right she does," Emmett vowed.

"_She's_ standing right here," I huffed in annoyance. I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I wanted to scream it at them, but I wouldn't. I _couldn't_.

A glance from Leah to Emmett to the Jacob wolf showed that they were all wearing sheepish expressions. It was hilarious to me that a wolf could look sheepish.

"Jacob's father, Billy, is the figurative Chief of the tribe, though in current times, that translates as head of the tribal council," Leah explained. "He's more of a figure-head in that respect because of his responsibilities as the Alpha male of our pack and because Black's Auto Repair & Restoration pulls in a lot of money for the Rez and also pretty much keeps the pack afloat. Jacob's mother, Talise, is the Alpha female of our pack and has more of a hand in the council than Billy does. She doesn't really have much to do with the auto business at all so she has more time for it. Jacob and I are next in line to be Alpha male and female of the pack." She cast a loving and proud glance over her shoulder to where the Jacob wolf was shrouded in the shadows, but she also looked sad and kind of old as she said it, as though she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. There was a similar sheen to the Jacob wolf's eyes and the slight sag of his shoulders at her words. "When Dr. Cullen and the rest of his family came to us and announced that they were taking you in, they didn't give us a choice about it, but they promised we could keep an extra close eye on them _and_ you to make sure the treaty isn't violated. You said they told you about the treaty," she said, pausing. "Did they tell you what it entails?"

I nodded. I was getting fidgety, and I wanted to move around. I wouldn't though. Now wasn't the time, so I shifted into parade rest to keep myself in check instead—feet shoulder width apart, hands centered at the small of the back, the fingers of both hands extended and joined, thumbs interlocked so that the right palm was outward, head in the attention position. It was still second nature after all this time, and as annoying as it was, the routine of it, the familiarity, was comforting. I regarded her calmly as I waited for her to proceed.

"Can we have a minute?" Leah requested of me, still looking chagrined.

I nodded again, not able to deny her. She couldn't help that she was a shape-shifting wolf just as the Cullens couldn't help that they were vampires—the way I couldn't help that I was a genetically-engineered super soldier. I had already listened to this much; I might as well listen to the rest. I was still angry as all hell with her. None of this changed that everything between us was fake. I wasn't exactly truthful about my origins, but I never made promises to people, and I never told them I wanted to be friends when I knew we couldn't be.

Emmett laid a hand on my shoulder, and it was tough not to stiffen, but I did it, not wanting to give Leah or Jacob any reason, despite their seeming acceptance of him, to become suspicious or wary. I gave him a reassuring smile, and he retreated into the treeline, out of sight—though he could still see us—but not out of earshot. It gave the illusion of privacy, but it was still annoying. I couldn't say much about that though since I was capable of the exact same thing. Jacob received a similar reassurance from Leah and trotted off in the opposite direction.

"I liked you from the moment you walked into the garage at Black's Auto and gave Paul hell," she grinned. "When we saw you waitressing at the diner, Jacob came up with the idea that I get a job there with the idea that I would be better able to keep an eye on you. I was the one who was chosen because you seemed to like me best—"

"That's not true," I interrupted. "I liked your brother the most that day at the garage."

Leah's grin turned sardonic. "Your honesty is great," she chuckled, and then she sighed. "Anyway, I _wanted_ the job, and if Jacob and I hadn't put our feet down, it would have been Paul."

"Oh joy," I muttered.

Leah smiled at that but returned to seriousness in an instant. "It's my duty to watch over humans, Bella, but I really _was_ hoping we could be friends. You see, I don't have any female friends. I was never really able to relate well to the girls I know on the Reservation growing up. I was always too harsh and abrasive, girly but not girly _enough_. Just ... different. Maybe it's because I was always destined to be a wolf, I don't know. My best friends have always been guys, and I love my guy friends—I do, but I've always wanted a chick friend. I'm the only girl in the pack, and now that I'm a wolf, I _really_ can't relate to other girls. But you walked into Black's Auto, and I felt like maybe you could get me even though you're not supernatural. We're alike, ya know? So I wanted the job because I wanted, _want_, to know you. It just so happens that it let me keep an eye on you, make sure you were okay, at the same time. You know, two birds, one stone and all. Now that you know about vampires, and well, us, I got really excited because I thought it might mean we could be the kind of friends I've been wanting but didn't think I could ever have. It wasn't bullshit, Bella."

All throughout her speech, Leah's expression and voice were earnest and honest, her eyes clear and bright, her heart rate steady. She was being absolutely sincere, heartbreakingly so.

Everything Leah had said was something I could relate to on some level, and my ever-fleeting desire to be friends with her solidified. I wanted to be friends with her.

_Son of a bitch!_

It really was going to hurt when I left.

"Okay, Leah. I believe you."

Leah smiled, her relief palpable, but I couldn't smile back ... my heart was hurting. But that didn't matter. I would push all this aside because that's what I did. I cordoned things off so I could deal and live my life without going certifiable. I couldn't be friends with Leah ... or Alice, Charlotte, Peter, Emmett, Edward, Angela or Riley. I couldn't get any more attached to Esme or Carlisle. I could show Jasper I wasn't a cold bitch without letting him get underneath my skin any further. I could do that. I _could_.

oOo

**A/N: **So now Bella knows about the Quileutes, and she's trying to figure out a way to cheer Jasper up. What do you think she'll come up with?

I hope you liked this chapter. Take care. :)


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